You and Me
by zelda49
Summary: Angsty Humorous Fluffy Romance [BB] A series of moments in Booth and Brennan's relationship. [rating is for the occaisonal curse word]
1. First Impressions

A/N: This little ditty has been kicking around in my head for a few weeks now, and I have finally found some time to get it started. The basic idea is that the show has left out some small but important moments in Booth and Brennan's developing relationship, and each chapter here will detail one of those moments. I'm posting the first three chapters to start, and I would appreciate any feedback--what I did well _and_ what I need to work on. If there's enough interest I'll continue the series, and if there's not I'll just leave it at three chapters. Let me know what you think!

This first part is set before the show begins, when Brennan first meets Booth. Enjoy!

* * *

Dr. Temperance Brennan slid off her blue lab coat and pulled the elastic from her hair, carefully hanging up the coat as she pocketed the elastic. She glanced quickly around at the neatly arranged office, her mind drifting for a moment, wondering what it was that her boss needed to see her about. Her assistant Zack had been very cryptic when he had delivered the message. 

She sighed and strode down the hallway, shifting her thoughts back to the images of the skeleton she had been working on, trying to piece together the puzzle while she walked. As she neared her destination, though, she could hear not one but two voices: that of the Jeffersonian's administrator and one that was wholly unfamiliar to her. Brennan paused just outside the open office door, her eyes searching for the owner of the second voice.

They landed upon a dark-haired man in a black suit who was seated in one of the chairs in front of her boss's desk. She could only see the back of him, but noted the crisp hair cut and broad shoulders, the straight posture, the long legs sitting at right angles to the rest of his body. His head turned slightly and Brennan caught sight of a squarish jaw with a hint of a five o'clock shadow.

_Military man or law enforcement?_ she asked herself. _Secret Service maybe?_

Reaching out, she knocked gently on the doorframe to alert the two men of her presence. "Dr. Goodman, you wanted to see me?" she asked her boss.

"Ah, Dr. Brennan," he replied, rising from his chair behind the desk. "Come in, come in."

The second man rose as well, buttoning his suit coat as he turned to face her.

_Tall_, she thought. _Strong, too, I bet._

"Dr. Brennan," Goodman continued, "I'd like you to meet Special Agent Seeley Booth from the FBI's Homicide Investigations Unit."

She nodded politely. _FBI...law enforcement it is._

Booth offered his hand, silently appraising the scientist standing before him. _So this is the infamous Dr. Brennan…not bad looking—in a Squinty sort of way. _Aloud he said, "Nice to meet you Dr. Brennan."

"And you Agent Booth," she replied, briefly shaking his hand. _He _is _strong._

"Agent Booth, here, has come on behalf of the FBI to request our help with a particularly difficult homicide case," Goodman explained.

Booth handed a manila folder to Brennan. "Deputy Director Cullen specifically asked for you, Dr. Brennan. He heard you were the best in your field and that you'd helped other agencies with some of their toughest cases. He was hoping that you'd be able to help us with this one."

"Dr. Brennan _is_ the best," Goodman confirmed with a proud smile. "And I'm sure she'd be happy to lend her expertise to the FBI."

Brennan looked up from the file to glare at her boss. _When is he going to stop treating me like property?_ "You're just going to promise my help without asking me first? What if I don't have the time? What if I already have too many other cases to work on?"

Booth tried not to roll his eyes. _Great, not only is she a Squint, but she's a temperamental_ _Squint. If she's gonna be a pain in the ass all the time, she better be worth it._

Goodman pressed his lips together in an effort to suppress a displeased frown. "That we will discuss later. Right now, you have work to do."

Booth stood, extending his hand to the administrator. "Thank you, Dr. Goodman."

Goodman reciprocated, nodding. "Good luck to you, Agent Booth."

Brennan rose from her seat, shooting an unhappy glance at her boss before turning her attention back to the file, reading as she exited the office.

"So what do you think?" Booth asked, following her out.

Her eyes shifted from the papers in her hands to the man beside her. "I'm going to need the Coroner's X-rays of the remains—originals, not copies—and reports from any and all lab work performed."

He pulled a memo pad from his suit coat pocket and jotted down her requests. "Anything else?"

"Any other physical evidence that was found on or with the bones," she replied, "as soon as you can get it to me."

"I'll call the FBI forensics lab and have it all delivered to you by the end of the day." He looked her over again, a smirk settling on his lips as she flipped though the papers in the folder. _She won't look at me for more than a second. I bet she thinks I'm hot…has a thing for me already. Squints don't get much contact with _real_ men…she won't be able to resist me._

She snapped the folder shut and nodded. "Okay. As soon as I know anything I'll call your office."

Brennan immediately turned and headed down the hallway that led to her own office, leaving Booth staring after her. His forehead wrinkled in confusion for a moment before he jogged over to her. "Wait, Dr. Brennan," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. _They always melt when I touch 'em._

"Yes?" she stopped and twisted around to face him, raising a questioning eyebrow at the hand on her shoulder.

_Strike one…guess I'll have to turn up the charm._ "I, uh, just wanted to thank you," he replied in his sincerest voice, pulling his hand away. "It's important that we find out what happened…"

"…so we can find out who the victim is and give this family some closure," she finished for him.

_That isn't what I was going to say, and she didn't even notice the whole "quiet torment" thing I had going on. I guess that's strike two. _He pulled a business card from his inner jacket pocket and scribbled something on the back before handing it to her. "That's my office number on the front, and my cell number on the back," he told her, flashing his most charismatic smile. "If you need anything else, you can call me directly."

She took the card and placed it in the file folder. _Is he really trying to flirt with me? _During_ an investigation? That can't be right…I have to be misreading him._ "Okay," she repeated steadily. "Do you know your way out?"

_Ouch—strike three._ "Uh, yeah. I can find my way out." He tucked his memo book inside his coat and watched her walk away. _She is definitely not like any other Squint I've met…or any other woman for that matter. But I'll crack her yet._ He grinned to himself and headed to the exit.

Brennan waited for Booth to move off in the other direction, then glanced back at him. _This is the first case I've done for the FBI. I wonder how closely I'll be working with Agent Booth. Is he going to respect me and my work, or am I going to have to prove myself to _him_, too?_


	2. Can't We All Just Get Along?

A/N: More pre-pilot-episode fun. This is the end of their first case together...

* * *

Brennan allowed the unknown FBI agent to escort her to Booth's office, where she knocked smartly on the doorframe. He glanced up from his desk, nodding to the agent as he left, and smiled at Brennan. _This should make her day._

"Zack said you wanted to see me?"

Booth nodded. "Yeah…have a seat, I have some good news."

She entered the office slowly, almost warily, and lowered herself into one of the chairs near his desk. _I wonder how he's going to try and torture me today. _"What is it, Booth?" she asked, the tension evident in her voice.

He winced a little at her tone, but hoped the friction that had permeated their relationship thus far might be forgotten for a moment once he delivered his news. He kicked his feet up on his desk and laced his fingers together behind his head, leaning back in his chair with a triumphant smile. "We got him."

Brennan stared at him. "Who?"

"The killer…the case we've been working on together?" he reminded her sarcastically. "The one _you_ identified. He was actually holding the weapon he used, which you also identified."

"You got him?" she repeated his words.

He noticed how she took herself out of the statement, but decided to let it go. _That wasn't because of the way I treated her…was it?_ He dropped his feet down off the desk and leaned forward in his chair, his brown eyes meeting her blue ones. "Yeah!" he told her with a grin. "Locked the son of a bitch up. There'll be a trial, of course…where he'll be convicted and sentenced to life in prison."

"And you returned the remains to the family?" she prompted.

He nodded, his expression becoming serious again. "We did."

Brennan blew out a breath and relaxed in her chair. "Good. I'm glad."

"What, that's it?" Booth wondered out loud. "We put away a murderer for the rest of his life and all you can say is 'I'm glad'?"

"Well, I _am_ glad," she insisted. "This man will never hurt another person, and the victim's family finally has some closure. But you keep saying 'we' like you and I contributed equally, even though you've made it very clear throughout this whole case that I was just a part of the process…that you were the one doing all the 'real' work."

This time he frowned. "You _were_ a part of the process…a very valuable part of the process. You told us who and what to look for based on the victim's bones. You were Dr. Brennan the Magnificent Bone Lady…" His voice trailed off and he started to smile, a smile that she had learned to be suspicious of.

"What?" _What's bouncing around in that disturbed little mind of his?_

"'The Magnificent Bone Lady'," he chuckled, leaning back in his chair again. "Sounds like some circus freak show…"

"I am _not_ a freak show," she spat at him, trying to keep her voice calm. _Arguing only eggs him on, you know that. Stay calm._

He laughed harder at the expression on her face. _She's so easy to get riled up._ "I think I'm gonna call you that from now on…The Magnificent Bone Lady…"

"No," she maintained, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You are _not_ calling me The Magnificent Bone Lady!"

"Yeah, you're right," he conceded.

The teasing twinkle was still present in his eyes, but Brennan didn't see it. She was too surprised by his words. "I am?"

"Yeah…Magnificent Bone Lady is way too long. We could shorten it up to Bone Lady…"

"Booth, no!"

"Still too long, eh?" he smirked. "Well what about just Bones?"

She rose from her chair shaking her finger at him now, her voice rising despite her efforts to keep it steady. "No! My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan…"

"…Bones for short…"

"Err," she growled through gritted teeth. "Why do you insist on infuriating me?"

His smile broadened. "Why do you take the bait every time?"

"I think you were trying to do something nice by asking me to come here so you could tell me that the case I've been helping you with has been solved," she told him, her hand now balled up into a fist. "But then you start acting like a child—again—just to annoy me. Don't you know how to be professional?"

Booth stood and walked around his desk, his hand outstretched. "Look, Bones, I'm sorry…"

"Don't call me Bones," she interrupted.

He smothered a smile. _And I'm the childish one?_ "Brennan," he began again, emphasizing her name, "I'm sorry, okay? You just…you just have to lighten up a little…learn to take a little teasing. It's part of being human."

"I _am_ human, and I've never dealt with so much amateurish behavior in my entire career."

"You're not human," he snickered. "You're a Squint."

"Congratulations on catching your murderer, Agent Booth," she huffed at him. "But don't expect my help on future cases." Spinning on her heel, she marched out of his office.

"Thanks for the help, Bones," he called gleefully at her retreating form.

She stopped just outside his door and turned, her pale cheeks turning pink with anger. "Don't call me Bones!" she said forcefully.

Her vehemence only made him giggle.


	3. Truce

A/N: Post-pilot-episode this time. Booth and Brennan call a truce...

* * *

"Hey Bones," Booth smiled, knocking on the doorframe of Brennan's office at the Jeffersonian. "I got a case I need you to take a look at."

"Don't call me Bones!" she responded severely.

He laughed. He knew he shouldn't—it would only hurt her feelings, and if he hurt her feelings she wouldn't help him with the case—but couldn't stop himself. "You know you like it…"

"No, I don't," she insisted, her eyes wide with anger. "My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan…"

"Come on, Bones…"

She cut him off with menacing glare.

"…Brennan," he corrected slowly. "All the best have nicknames…Wayne Gretzky was 'The Great One', Walter Payton was 'Sweetness', Earvin Johnson was 'Magic'…"

She shook her head, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. "I don't know who any of those people are, and I don't care. Just don't call me Bones!"

"I thought we had this all worked out," he said, his own brow furrowing in thought. "We made a deal, remember? You promised to help me with cases as long as you got to come out in the field."

"Nowhere in the agreement did we discuss nicknames," she shot back.

"We need to discuss nicknames?"

She nodded her head emphatically, rising from her desk and walking over to him. "Yes. You know I don't like it when you call me Bones, and I have been professional enough not to call you by anything other than your given name."

"Fine," Booth sighed, leaning against the doorframe, "I will _try_ not to call you Bones. What else do we need to discuss?"

Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and met his gaze, deciding not to push the nickname issue for the moment. She had more important things to deal with. "The unprofessional way you treat me—your teasing, your ordering me around…your flirting…"

"My _flirting_?" he questioned with surprise, clapping a large hand to his chest.

"Yes, Booth, your flirting," she repeated, her hands flying as she spoke. "At first I thought I was just misreading you, but after studying you closely over a period of time I realized that I wasn't. Maybe you're trying to annoy me, or maybe you want to see how I'll react. Maybe you're just…a flirt. I don't care _why_ you do it, I just want it to stop."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, a chagrined expression crossing his face at her words. Despite his protest, he knew that he _had_ been flirting with her in a twisted, how-fast-will-the-Squint-melt sort of way. He also knew that even as a Squint, she deserved to be treated better than that.

"Okay," he conceded in a quieter voice. "Anything else?"

She noted his change in tone and dialed back the resentment in her own. "Yes. I would like you to treat my staff with some appreciation, too. They've worked hard on the cases you've brought in, and I think they've earned your respect."

He nodded again, wincing a little this time. "I'll do my best," he told her.

It was her turn to be surprised. "You will?"

"Yeah," he replied. "You're right. You and your Squint Squad have helped out with the cases I bring, when the FBI doesn't know what else to do, and you deserve some credit for that."

"Really?" she asked, not quite sure she heard him correctly.

"Yeah, Bones. Don't look at me like I'm some kind of bully, pushing you around and taking all the credit for your contributions…" His voice trailed off when the expression on her face confirmed his words. "Is that what you think I am?"

"It's the way you act," she reported matter-of-factly, ignoring his use of her nickname.

Booth mulled that one over for a moment. "How 'bout a truce?" he suggested.

"A truce?" she echoed.

"Yeah…are you gonna question everything I say?" he wondered aloud, the irritation creeping back into his voice.

"What?' she asked before she could stop herself. Then, shaking her head, "No, I'm not going to question everything you say." She paused briefly, her stare wavering a bit at his unexpected proposal. "And yes…I'd like a truce."

"Okay, so I promise to treat you and your staff with a little more respect…" he began.

"…and to not call me Bones…" she added.

He grinned. "…and to _try_ not to call you Bones," he amended. "And you…"

"…promise to keep working cases with you," she finished, hints of a smile pulling at her lips.

Booth held out his hand. "Partners?"

Her smile widened. "Partners," she agreed, shaking the hand he offered a few times. When the shaking ceased Brennan didn't let go, lost in the thought forming in her mind

Booth recognized the look in her eyes. "Another question?" he frowned.

"We're really partners?" she asked skeptically, raising her eyebrows as she released his hand. "Equal partners?"

"Yeah," he replied, glancing at his feet and shuffling them uncomfortably. "If we're gonna do this, we should do it right." A familiar glint appeared in his dark eyes when they made contact again with her bright blue ones. "Besides, with all that marshal arts stuff…you're _almost_ badass sometimes, Bones," he winked.

"Yeah?" she countered, moving back to her desk and throwing a smirk at him over her shoulder. "Well, with all that detective work…you _almost_ have basic reasoning skills, Booth."


	4. One Step Closer

A/N: I wasn't sure if I was going to continue this because 1) I spent a ton of time away from writing while I was moving to a new apartment these last couple of weeks, and 2) because interest doesn't seem too strong for this story. But I found my notes in a box the other day and got all excited again, so I thought I'd give it another shot. There are plenty more where this came from, and the drama and fluff content will definatly be on the rise :-D

Enjoy!

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"Hey Bones," Booth greeted as he swiped his Jeffersonian ID through the card reader. Gaining access to the forensics area of the lab, he hopped up the steps and waived a manila file folder in the air. "Ready to go?"

Brennan glanced up from the skeleton she was examining and sighed. "Don't call me Bones!"

"Are you ready?" Booth repeated, ignoring her directive.

She frowned, wondering what she had to do to get him to call her by her given name before forcing her mind back to the folder he held. "I'm finished here," she nodded. "Is that the case you called about?"

"Twenty-seven year old school teacher went missing from her home in Annapolis, Maryland six months ago," he summarized. "A badly decomposed body matching her general description washed up along the shore of the Anacostia River this morning, near the construction site for the Nationals' new baseball stadium."

"Okay, let me get my equipment."

Ten minutes later, after leaving instructions for her staff and gathering the tools she needed, Brennan headed out of her office with Booth. He handed her the case file, filling in details and answering her questions as they walked.

"Who found the body?" she asked, reading over the notes in the folder.

"One of the construction workers," he answered. "Took a walk during his lunch break and saw what he thought was a bag of garbage caught on rock near the bank. When he got closer, he discovered an arm sticking out of the bag."

"And the remains are completely skeletonized?"

Booth shook his head. "The first officer on the scene said some tissue was still present, but a lot of it had been eaten away by insects and whatever critters live in the river."

"No prints, then?"

"Nope. No prints, no face, no name. Based on height and clothing, it looks to be the body of the missing teacher, but there's no way to be sure."

Brennan looked up from the file, her eyes filled with anger and sorrow mixed with a sense of duty. "I can be sure."

Booth smiled gently, sharing the emotions she tried so hard to disguise. "That's why I called you."

They moved through the outer doors of the lab in silence, each going over the facts of the case in their minds as they prepared themselves for the crime scene. Outside the building, Booth turned in the direction of the parking space where he'd left his SUV, reaching out and brushing a hand along Brennan's back, steering her toward the vehicle. A few steps more and the hand slid away, digging into his pocket for the keys. He clicked the automated door locks and resisted the urge to open the passenger door for her, an act that had been firmly taught by his father but one that he knew Brennan viewed as an affront to her independence. Instead, he merely walked around the SUV and climbed behind the wheel, inserting his key as she situated herself beside him.

As he listened to the engine turn over, Booth suddenly had a strange thought. _What just happened?_

_You walked out of the lab with Bones,_ a voice in his mind answered. _What's the big deal?_

_I touched her, _he mentally replied to the voice.

_So what's so weird about that? You were just steering her toward the car—you've done that before._

_Yes, _he acknowledged, _but I've always been fully aware that I was doing it. This time, I just did it…without thinking._

_It wasn't intimate or inappropriate, or unprofessional in any way._

He pressed his lips into a tight line. _No, but…_

The voice persisted. _You've been working with her for a couple of months now. Is it so strange that you would guide your partner toward a vehicle when she didn't know where it was?_

_That's just it…it _wasn't _strange._

"Booth?"

Brennan's voice snapped him out of his cerebral conversation. "Ready?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," she answered, puzzled irritation dripping from her words. "Are you?"

He shifted into gear and stepped on the accelerator, pulling from the parking space and heading into another day of heavy DC traffic. "I'm always ready, Bones," he winked.

The fury rose in her face. "Don't call me Bones!"

He grinned, pleased with himself for sparking the familiar reaction. _Not strange at all,_ he thought. _Comfortable._

Brennan huffed in the seat next to him, crossing her arms over her chest and staring straight ahead. When the reached the scene she was all business again, pushing aside her annoyance at the nickname she seemed to have acquired in order to give her full attention to the task at hand. She examined the body quickly, making preliminary estimates as she worked, then helped to collect all traces of evidence from the riverbank.

When she was through, the body was bagged and loaded into a van for transport back to the Jeffersonian. Brennan stood, snapping off the latex gloves she'd been wearing and taking a minute to stretch her stiff muscles, then gathered her equipment and joined Booth back at his SUV. Only then did the not-so-strangeness of Booth's earlier gesture occur to her.

_Did he really put his hand on my back? _she asked herself as she buckled her seatbelt. Shaking her head a little, her brow furrowed in thought. _He's done that before. Always brief, always a light touch, always with a purpose. What was different about this time?_

The engine roared to life and Booth pulled away from the crime scene. "Back to the lab?" he asked. "If I know you you'll want to get started as soon as possible."

She nodded. "I do want to get started as soon as possible," she confirmed. "The sooner we find out who this woman is, whether or not she's the missing school teacher, the sooner we can provide some closure for the family and find whoever did this to her."

They were quite the rest of the ride, tired and wrung out from the day's work. Try as she might, though, Brennan couldn't keep her mind off Booth's hand on the small of her back. _What was different about this time? _she asked herself again.

His words to her as they left the crime scene drifted through her mind. _"If I know you…"_

That was it. _He _does _know me, at least in part. That's what was different, too. He knows me, has worked with me on numerous occasions. He knew I was reading the case file and not watching where he was walking, and directed me toward his vehicle with his hand. The gesture is a habit now, a sign that we're becoming a team. It's a good thing._

She settled into her seat, a tiny smile forming on her lips as they drove. _It's comfortable._


	5. Time Apart

A/N: First of all let me say wow! The first three chapters of this story didn't spark much interest, but since I posted the update you guys seem to be getting excited about it. Not only does the attention boost my ego, but it fuels my motivation, too. That means the more you review, the faster I write ;-)

Okay, this section was inspired by the conversation Booth and Brennan had near the begining of the episode "The Man on the Fairway". The part of it that has been reproduced here (the first six lines in italics) is the part referenced throughout the chapter, and you do not need to have seen this particular ep to understand this part of the story. If you _have_ seen the ep, though, you'll remember the part I'm using.

Enjoy!

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"_You've done a couple of cases without me and you miss me."_

"_Zach misses you, not me."_

"_The next time you miss me, pick up the phone and call—we'll do lunch or something…"_

"_I do not miss you!"_

"_Yeah, you miss me! Come on say it!"_

"_I do _not_ miss…"_



Booth sat at his desk, his floor of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building empty save for the cleaning crew, the sky outside his window lit only by a half-moon hanging overhead. He was supposed to be doing paperwork, the boring part of the job they never showed in movies and the bane of his existence. Instead, his thoughts kept floating back to his conversation with Brennan earlier in the day.

The Squints at the Jeffersonian had been assigned three cases in a row that did not include the FBI, so he and Brennan had spent some time apart. A case surfaced that morning, though, which Brennan had decided justified Booth's presence, and she gave him a call asking him to come to her lab as soon as possible. He had gone as requested and listened carefully to her presentation of the facts.

Booth leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face as he kicked his feet up on the desk. The initial information in the case had been vague, and it was a reach to try to involve the Bureau.

"But that isn't _really_ why she asked me to go over there," he said aloud.

He pictured the superior look on her face as she explained the three small pieces of bone on the exam table, then pictured that same superior look melting into embarrassed fury when he called her out. He laced his fingers behind his head, his grin widening.

"All she had to do was say that she wanted to see me," he said out loud, "admit that she missed me."

_And what, you would have left her alone?_

"Of course not," he replied to his unspoken thought, chuckling to himself. "I would have teased her anyway."

_Why?_

"Because it's easy…she gets so wound up about the littlest things…"

_And you like provoking her._

"Yeah, I like provoking her."

_Why? _his brain asked again.

The smile faded from his lips and he kicked his feet down from the desk. "What is this, a therapy session? I like to tease her because she reacts. My FBI partners did it to me, and now I'm doing it to her."

_Because you're partners._

"Because we're partners. It's a bonding thing, a technique to bring two people closer together."

_Closer together?_

He thumped a fist on the desk and sat straight up in his chair. "It's important for partners to be close…they need to trust each other."

_And that's why you tease Brennan?_

"Yes." His voice tried to sound convincing but it didn't quite succeed.

_To be close to her?_

"That's not what I meant."

_So you didn't miss her at all while you were working apart._

"No."

_Really._

"Yes really. What? I'm being doubted by my own mind now? I didn't miss her, okay?"

Booth felt a twinge in the back of his brain equivalent to a stern look.

He sighed and slumped over his desk, his face coming to rest in one of his large hands, unable to defy his thoughts any longer. "Well…maybe just a little…"



Brennan sat at her desk, the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab empty save for the cleaning crew, the sky outside her window lit only by the half-moon hanging overhead. She was supposed to be doing paperwork, the one area where she sometimes allowed herself to procrastinate then make up for later with a marathon session in the vacant building. Instead, her thoughts kept floating back to her conversation with Booth earlier in the day.

She and her staff at the Jeffersonian had been assigned three cases in a row that did not include the FBI, so it had been a while since she'd worked with Booth. A case surfaced that morning, though, which Brennan had decided justified Booth's presence, and she gave him a call asking him to come to her lab as soon as possible. He had come as requested and listened carefully to her presentation of the facts.

Brennan leaned back in her chair, dropping her pen on her blotter and folding her hands across her stomach. The information had been incomplete, sure, but there seemed to be enough evidence of a crime to involve the Bureau.

"And that's why I called him," she said aloud.

Her lips pulled into a frown and her forehead creased with annoyance as she pictured the smug look on his face when he implied that she might have called him out of something other than professional interest.

"Why does he tease me like that?"

_That's psychology Brennan, and you know how you hate psychology._

"Yes," she replied to the thought, "but I wish he'd just do his job and let me do mine."

The next noise she heard sounded like laughing coming from the back of her mind.

"What? That's what I want."

_And you don't enjoy spending time with him at all?_

"Well, yes, I like spending time with him. Professionally, of course. He's a good investigator, and in spite of his disdain for my field, he's actually rather intelligent most of the time."

_Is that why you missed him while you weren't working together?_

"Yes," she said firmly. "Even with the teasing, we make a good team. It's best for society if we continue to work together."

_Best for society? Are you two saving the world?_

"No, but we do very important work."

_And it's strictly professional._

"Yes of course."

_You weren't excited to see him again?_

"We already established that I like working with him."

_And his smile didn't make your stomach flip-flop at all?_

She sat straight up in her chair and flattened her palms on her desk. "No!"

_You're sure about that._

"I know what you're implying, but he's my partner…my _work_ partner…"

_Come on, I was there, remember?_

She sighed and slumped over the desk, her head buried in her arms, defeated by her own brain. "Well…maybe just a little…"


	6. Walk Like an Egyptian

A/N: Just a couple of quick FYIs on this one before you get to it. There's a brief reference to the Beltway in the begining, which is an interstate highway that runs all the way around Washington, DC (like a belt--hence the name) and is notorious for traffic jams and construction backups. I also borrowed from one of my favorite childhood songs, which those of you over the age of 23 might remember, and it does not belong to me (no matter how nicely I ask). Every time I hear it lately, I envision poor Bren completely mystified by the lyrics and it was too good not to share :-P

I had fun writing this one, so have fun reading it!

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They had been sitting in traffic for half an hour, creeping along a few feet then halting unceremoniously at the taillights in front of them. Booth sat in the driver's seat, trying desperately to keep himself calm, his hands gripping the steering wheel with so much force the knuckles began to turn white.

"Why did we take the Beltway?" he asked aloud.

Brennan sighed from the passenger seat. "Because you said it would be faster. You said it was the middle of the afternoon, and there wouldn't be much traffic…"

"There's _always _traffic on the Beltway," he replied through gritted teeth.

Silence fell over them and traffic continued to inch forward. Booth began tapping his foot restlessly, a part of his brain screaming at him that the speed limit was _sixty_-five miles per hour not _five_, while the other part commanded him to suppress the building road rage.

Brennan's attention drifted out the window past her partner to the car in the next lane, with its radio blaring and its driver obviously enjoying the music despite the traffic conditions. It was the "'80's Flashback Lunch" the DJ proclaimed, rattling off the list of songs to come. She smiled as she recognized the name of a few of the singers: Bon Jovi, Madonna, John Cougar Mellencamp, Billy Idol. The song that began the set, though, was wholly unfamiliar to her.

_All the old paintings on the tomb  
They do the sand dance, don'cha know?  
If they move too quick (Oh-Way-Oh)  
They're falling down like a domino_

Brennan's forehead wrinkled in concentration as she listened to the words. "Booth, did you hear that?" she asked, straining to hear the next verse. "That song sounds like it's supposed to be about archaeology and Egyptian culture, but it's all wrong!"

_And the bazaar man by the Nile  
He got the money on a bet  
For the crocodiles (Oh-Way-Oh)  
They snap their teeth on a cigarette_

Booth cocked his head slightly to one side and listened to the music, a smile spreading over his face as he recognized the tune.

_Foreign types with their hookah pipes sing  
Way-oh-way-oh-way-ooo-aaa-ooo  
Walk like an Egyptian._

"That isn't about archaeology or Egyptian culture," he grinned. "It's the Bangles."

"Bangles? You mean like bracelets?"

He chuckled. "No, Bones, _The _Bangles. They're a band. 'Walk Like an Egyptian' was one of their biggest songs—from 1986, I think. There was a dance that went with it and everything."

"'Walk Like an Egyptian'?" she repeated skeptically. "People from Egypt don't walk any differently than anyone else…"

He stifled another laugh and managed not to roll his eyes. "It's just a song. Geez, Bones, you gotta get more pop culture exposure."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

The question was meant to be flung back at him, but it shook loose an idea in his mind. "I'm taking you on a field trip," he decided. "Just as soon as we get out of this traffic, _you_ are gonna have a pop culture lesson."

●●●

An hour later the pair pulled into the parking structure at the Jeffersonain, Booth's enthusiasm for his "field trip" kicking in again as they climbed out of the SUV.

"Come on, Bones," he grinned, gently grasping her elbow and leading her out of the structure.

Brennan turned sideways to look at him, perplexed. "I thought you said I was getting a pop culture lesson."

"You are," he replied simply.

"But…we're at the Jeffersonian."

He smiled knowingly. "Yes."

_Where the hell is he taking me? _she wondered, her curiosity and trust in her partner outweighing her misgivings toward the unknown.

They moved quickly out of the structure, heading toward the National Mall where many of DC's tourist attractions were located. When they stopped walking, Brennan found herself staring up at the National Museum of American History.

"The American History Museum?" she questioned.

Booth nodded. "You need pop culture. They have pop culture—a whole wing of it and them some."

His hand came to rest on the small of her back, and he led her up the stone steps to the security checkpoint inside the building. Whispering something to one of the guards as they passed through, he brought his eyes back to his partner and winked.

"Come on, it's this way."

He once again took the lead, his hand returning casually to the small of her back as they wove their way through packs of tourists. Around the corner, down a corridor, and up the escalator they traveled, then around another corner and down a second corridor before Booth came to a stop.

"Here we are," he grinned. "The pop culture displays. They have _everything_ here…"

He went straight to the case containing sports memorabilia and began a systematic tour of the exhibits, explaining the items she didn't recognize and congratulating her with a teasing twinkle in his eyes on the ones she did. They saw Dorothy's ruby slippers from _The Wizard of Oz_, an extraterrestrial egg prop from the movie _Alien_, a signpost from the set of the TV show _MASH_, Bill Baker's hockey jersey from the 1980 Olympics, the original Kermit the Frog puppet, and even Evel Knievel's Harley Davidson motorcycle. When they had studied every artifact in public view, a security guard found them and escorted them to the depths of the museum, where other items the museum owned sat waiting their turn for display.

"How are we allowed to go down here?" Brennan whispered incredulously, following close behind the security guard.

Booth flashed her a sly grin. "You aren't the only one with museum connections."

They were quiet the rest of the walk before Brennan spoke again, smiling shyly at her partner as she surveyed the massive collection. "This was a nice thing you did for me today."

He returned her smile, pleased at her reaction to his spur-of-the-moment trip. "It was my pleasure."

She hesitated a beat before asking her next question. "You said there was a dance?"

"Huh?"

"That song this afternoon…The Bangers…"

"Bang_les_," he corrected gently.

She pressed her lips together briefly, chastising herself for the mix up. "The Bangles. You said there was a dance that went with the song."

Booth immediately became suspicious. "Yeah…"

Tentatively, she continued, "Will you show it to me?"

"What? No way. It was a really stupid dance, Bones."

"Come on, Booth! Please?"

He glanced around the room and, finding no one within visual range, frowned. "Okay," he sighed resignedly, sliding off his suit jacket, "but just this once. And _no one_ better find out."

Brennan laughed with delight, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise when he cocked his arms and bent his knees, strutting around the room in time to the music in his mind.

_Walk like an Egyptian_


	7. Tie One On

A/N: Wow! I am _seriously_ overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter! I mean, I thought it was cute, of course, but you guys have given my ego a considerable boost, which was much appreciated :-D

Hopefully this one is worthy of following Booth's "Walk Like An Egyptian" dance :-P

----------

They sat together at the bar at Wong Foo's, comfortably conversing as they ate a late dinner after a long day. They discussed the case they had just closed, talked about their plans for the upcoming weekend, cracked a few jokes, and just enjoyed sharing a meal with each other.

"And then Russ would grab a hold of my wrist," Brennan demonstrated the maneuver, smiling cheerfully as she told the story about her childhood, "pull me all the way across the backyard, and spin me around. My feet would go flying…" Her arms shot out with an energy that matched the brightness of her eyes, and Booth grinned at her enthusiasm.

The gesture turned out to be a bad move. Brennan's hand connected with the beer Booth had been drinking with dinner, knocking it over and splashing foamy liquid all over the FBI agent.

He jumped up off the stool he'd been sitting on and looked ruefully down at his soaked shirt and tie. "Damn it!"

Brennan sprung into action, grabbing all the napkins within reach, hesitantly moving toward Booth before deciding better of it and mopping up the puddles on the bar as best she could. "I'm so sorry Booth…"

Sid spied the accident and brought towels, cleaning up the mess after shooting a withering glare at the anthropologist.

"Sid! I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I'm usually so careful…"

The owner merely shook his head and continued wiping up the spilled beer, handing Brennan a dry towel which she tentatively passed off to her partner.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, more softly this time.

Booth accepted the towel from her and tried to sponge off his clothing. "No, it's okay," he told her in a resigned voice. "My jacket escaped," he gestured toward the suit coat sitting on the stool beside him, "and my pants aren't too bad. It's just my shirt and tie, and I have a thousand white dress shirts."

"What about the tie?" she asked quietly.

"Hmm?" He glanced up from his cleaning efforts and caught the look in her eyes. "The tie?" He sighed and flipped up the garment in question between two fingers, frowning at the bleeding colors. "In our line of work, I should know better than to wear one that can get wrecked so easily."

He tried to flash her a smile, but it came out as a half-hearted smirk and she saw right through it. "I really am sorry," she said again, not knowing what else to do.

They stayed a few minutes more, re-seated in a dryer area of the bar, finishing their meal in silence before Booth bid Brennan a polite good-night. She followed him out shortly after, sitting behind the wheel of her car for a long time, wondering how to put things right.

The next afternoon, after a little internet searching and some lame excuses to the staff at the lab, Brennan left work early and headed for the nearest men's clothing store. She parked her car in the lot and marched confidently to the door, swinging it open and striding over to the tie display.

Once there, her eyes roamed over the mass of ties for sale and she wavered. _There are so many!_ Taking a deep breath and shooing away the salesmen, she began her quest to find a suitable replacement for the tie that she had damaged.

She spent hours sorting through cottons and silks, regular ties and clip-ons, stripes, polka dots, plaids, dark colors, pastels, novelty ties, holiday ties, and uniform ties. Each time she found a contender she'd hold it up in front of her and imagine it on Booth, squinting her eyes and ignoring the looks the other customers were giving her. Each time she'd frown and shake her head, knowing he would never wear the tie she held, then move on to the next.

It was dinner time before she hit on a winner, her lips curving into a satisfied smile when she pictured Booth wearing it. She took it to the counter, allowing one of the salesmen to wrap it in a proper gift box, congratulating herself on a job well done.

Arriving at Booth's place a half-hour later, Brennan noticed the darkened windows and immediately chastised herself for not calling ahead. _What if he isn't home? Or worse…what if he isn't home _alone

"I'm already here," she said aloud. "I might as well knock."

She stepped up to the door and knocked quietly, almost hoping no one would answer. _This was a bad idea_, she kept thinking. _I can just give it to him tomorrow…_

"Bones?" a male voice asked as the door swung open. "What are you doing here?"

"I can go if I'm interrupting," she told him, the words tumbling from her mouth as she noted the jeans and undershirt he wore, his feet bare and hair tousled. "It isn't important anyway."

She turned to go, but Booth caught her by the shoulder and stopped her. "It must have been important if you came all the way over here," he smiled.

"I'm not bothering you?"

"Not yet." His dark eyes twinkled as he spoke. "But give it a few minutes."

Brennan eyed him suspiciously as she moved past him into the living room, the wisecrack distracting her from the light pressure of his hand on her back. She waited for him to close the door, then held the tie box out to him. "This…is for you."

Booth's eyes fell on the package and his surprise returned. "For me?"

She nodded nervously. "Yes. I-I was careless at dinner yesterday, and I wanted to apologize."

"You already apologized, Bones. You didn't have to get me anything," he told her, accepting the box and raising his eyes to hers.

She resisted the urge to condemn the use of her nickname, reminding herself that she was here to make amends not cause and argument. Instead she continued, "Maybe I didn't _have_ to, but I felt bad about ruining your tie and I wanted to…to make it up to you."

The twinkle reappeared in his eyes and he grinned teasingly at her. "I'm impressed—your people skills are improving."

Brennan pressed her lips together and held back another biting comment. "Just open the box, Booth."

He laughed and slipped the lid from his package, pulling back the tissue paper and lifting his gift to eye level. As he studied the tie his smile became softer with a new appreciation for his partner.

"What do you think?" she asked, the anxiety creeping up into her voice. "Do you like it?"

He turned the tie slowly around, running his thumb over the silky material and allowing his smile to widen again. "I do like it," he replied. "This is a really nice tie, Bones."

A relieved sigh escaped her lips and her shoulders relaxed. "Good, because I spent all afternoon looking for just the right one…"

"You did?"

This time Brennan blushed, hoping she wasn't giving him the wrong idea. "It wouldn't do any good to get you a tie you'd never wear. What's the point of that?"

Booth chuckled, placing the tie back in its box and stepping toward his partner. Reaching out, he gently brushed a hand down her arm, squeezing her elbow affectionately before letting go. "I really like the tie," he repeated genuinely, his voice low and firm. "Thank you, Temperance."

Knowing he only used her given name when he wanted to make a point, she returned the smile contentedly. "You're welcome."


	8. That's What Friends Are For

A/N: My computer's been acting up lately, but I managed to calm it down long enough to post this. It's just a little more fluff, inspired by a comment Booth made (probably more than once) about Brennan not liking to be touched.

Enjoy!

----------

"Are you sure you're okay?" Booth asked, standing beside the couch in Brennan's office.

From her desk, the anthropologist replied, "Yes. I'm okay…I'll be okay." She paused a moment, observing her partner. "What about you? This case was really hard on you."

He waived her off with typical male bravado. "I'm fine."

"Really?" she responded, unconvinced. "I may not be good at reading people, Booth, but I am getting better at reading you."

He looked over at her, digesting her words slowly before realizing she was right. _She _is_ getting good at reading me._ He sighed and flopped down onto the couch. "Okay, I admit, I want to go down to that holding cell and make that guy wish he'd never been born," he told her through gritted teeth. "But I can't. So I won't. Instead, I'm going to go home, have a beer, and try to forget this case ever happened."

He rose quickly and started to leave the office, but hesitated at the door. _I don't want to be alone tonight, _he realized.

"Booth?" Brennan's voice intruded into his revelation.

"On second thought," he said, turning to face her again, "why don't you come over, too?"

That surprised her. "You want me to go home with you?"

_As usual, she twisted my words around._ "I want you to come over for a little while. We'll get take-out from Wong Foo's and watch stupid movies…or whatever. I don't think you should be alone tonight."

"I'm a grown woman, Booth. I can take care of myself," she reminded him with more force than she intended.

He sighed again. "Look, I know you can. I just want to make sure you don't go home and bury yourself in some anthropology textbook, okay? It's not healthy after the kind of case we had."

She studied him again, noting his scraggly face, his tired eyes, his slumped shoulders. _He looks like he needs a friend._ "Okay."

"Okay?" he repeated.

"Okay," she nodded her head. "Let's go get something to eat and find a movie."

She grabbed her coat and didn't protest when Booth reached over to help her put it on. His hand found the small of her back, guiding her out of the lab and into the parking structure, heading to Blockbuster before stopping at Sid's.

When they arrived at Booth's place, she took the food into the kitchen while he fired up the DVD player. Brennan reappeared minutes later carrying two open cardboard containers and two pairs of chopsticks, placing them on the coffee table as she seated herself on the couch.

"So what's first?" she asked.

Booth held a DVD case in each hand, glancing from one to the other. "How 'bout _The Mighty Ducks_?"

"Sure," she agreed, smothering a teasing smile. _He needs support right now. I may not know how to give it to him, but I'm pretty sure making fun of his choice of what appears to be a children's movie isn't going to help._

He popped the disc into the player and settled down beside her again. Grabbing the remote with one hand, he stretched his free arm out across the back of the couch, brushing his fingers softly along the nape of her neck.

Reacting before thinking, Brennan turned reflexively toward him, opening her mouth to speak.

Before she could, Booth cut her off. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I know how you don't like to be touched, I just forgot for a second…"

Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to sort out his words. "Booth, you don't have to apologize for touching me."

"I don't?"

"No, you do it all the time," she reminded him. "My shoulder, my back…you help me with my coat…"

"Yeah, but that's all professional," he clarified. "Touching you like I just did is…affectionate."

That made her smile. "It was. But you don't have to apologize for that, either."

"I don't?" he asked a second time.

"No." She shifted on the couch, placing her take-out container on the coffee table and turning herself further to look at him straight on. "When we're working, you're professional and well-mannered…most of the time," she smirked. "But you and I are friends outside of work, too. Aren't we?"

His expression softened. "I consider you my friend, yes."

"And friends are supposed to show affection for one another. So it's perfectly okay for you to touch me in a way that lets me know you care about me."

Her blunt analysis made him chuckle. "I can't believe I'm getting relationship advice from _you_."

"I'm just saying that it's okay, away from work, for us to be a little more expressive with each other," she explained.

He was a bit startled by her words. "That was surprisingly well put."

She shrugged her shoulders. "We've done it before. You've hugged me, touched my arm to comfort me…"

"…and you held my hand to comfort _me_," he finished gently. "We are good friends, aren't we?"

Brennan reached for her dinner, reorienting herself toward the TV as she resumed eating. "Why else would I be here watching mediocre, predictable movies with you that all have happy endings?"

He caught the glint in her blue eyes and knew that the deep part of the conversation was over. "Are you mocking my choice of DVDs?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She nodded. "Yes, I am."

He chuckled and squeezed her shoulders warmly. "Just c'mere and watch the damn thing with me."

Laughing, she scooted closer to him, dropping her chopsticks in the take-out container long enough to pat his knee. "That's what friends are for."


	9. Somewhere Only We Know

A/N: One more day until the season premier! (I'm kind of excited--can you tell?) Here's a little more slightly angsty fluff to hold you over until then, with many more chapter still to come :-)

----------

Brennan sat in the morning sun, gazing out at the quiet waters of the Potomac River Tidal Basin, lost in thought. Or, at least, trying to be. Her day had not begun smoothly, with her car refusing to start. The taxi she called arrived thirty minutes later than promised, making her arrival at the lab even more delayed. When she finally did make it to work, her computer crashed—twice—erasing the three most recent reports she had written but not yet printed off.

Then Booth had called. He had a suspect in custody, he told her, and thought she might like to be present for the interrogation. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that, but his tone had seemed so condescending to her this time, particularly the way he drew out her nickname: "Booones". Something about it rubbed her the wrong way, and she had slammed the phone down and bolted from the lab.

Her cell phone rang, and she dragged her eyes away from the calm scenery long enough to squint at the Caller ID display.

"Booth," she frowned, turning off the ringer. "He's just going to have to wait."

She sat for a few minutes more, consciously monitoring her breathing, continuing her efforts to relax before plunging back into her day. When finally her mind was settled and her heartbeat sufficiently slowed, she stood and began making her way back toward civilization. Crossing the National Mall, she pulled out her phone and dialed Booth.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

"Hello to you, too," she responded. "You have a suspect in custody?"

"Yes," he answered curtly.

"Have you questioned him yet?"

"No."

_Monosyllabic replies_, she thought. _He's really mad at me. _"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

She clicked off and pocketed the phone, striding quickly down the street to FBI Headquarters where Booth was waiting for her at the front entrance.

"Where have you been?" he asked again.

Brennan brushed him off. "That's not important. We have a suspect…"

"It _is_ important," he interrupted. "You were supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago! I called your office, your cell phone, your boss, your staff…I even called your house, but you didn't answer anywhere and no one knew where you were! Do you know how worried I was about you?"

"You were worried?" Her voice was noticeably softer this time.

Booth detected the difference in tone and ratcheted his temper down a notch. "Yeah I was worried. You said you were going to be here, then you didn't show up. That isn't like you and I didn't know what happened."

"I'm sorry, Booth," she told him sincerely. "It won't happen again."

"That's it? You're not going to tell me where you were?"

"Not now," she insisted. "We have work to do."

She started off down the hall, leaving him shaking his head and hurrying after her.



The next day, after a good night's sleep and a much better morning, Brennan called Booth from her office.

"Hey, do you have some free time today?" she asked.

On the other end of the line he flipped his wrist into view and checked his watch. "I have an hour before I'm due at a meeting, but I was on my way to have another run at our suspect. Why?"

"Can you meet me at Washington Monument?"

"What's this all about, Bones?"

She pressed her lips together. "Just trust me, okay?"

_Something's up, and it's obviously important to her._ "Okay. I can meet you there."

True to his word, Booth stood at the base of the tall, pointed monument in the heart of the National Mall when Brennan arrived.

"Thanks for coming," she greeted him.

"_Now_ will you tell me what's going on?" he returned.

She brushed a hand quickly over his arm and gestured toward the river. "This way."

They walked along in silence, watching runners jogging along the gravely pedestrian road, men and women in business suits hurrying from building to building, a group of schoolchildren being led into one of the museums. Rounding a curve in the sidewalk, Booth kept pace with Brennan, realizing where it was she was taking him.

"The Jefferson Memorial?" he wondered aloud as the structure came into view.

She covered the last few yards and climbed the white steps, nodding her head as she moved around to the back of the landmark. Coming to a halt, she turned her eyes on the blue-green water, careful not to look at her partner beside her.

"Sometimes my life becomes a little…"

She took a breath in the middle of the sentence, as she so often did, and Booth recognized the action. _She does that when she's trying to say something big._

"…overwhelming," she continued. "And I need a place to be alone—away from people and work and all the distractions that keep popping up."

"And this is where you were yesterday."

She nodded again, aware that he was studying her face but still not meeting his gaze. _He's going to think you're weak! _a part of her brain screamed. _But he deserves to know what happened, _another part countered. Brennan sighed. "My car wouldn't start, the taxi was late, my computer kept crashing, the coffee machine broke, I tore my favorite blouse… Then you called, and you sounded so patronizing…the way you called me Bones… I just wasn't able to deal with anything else until I had a moment to myself."

"Because of me?" He felt a pang of regret. _Boy, I really screwed up this time._

"Well, you on top of everything else. I know that you don't _really_ think of my work as stupid and worthless, and I don't even mind the nickname anymore. It was just the way you said it yesterday…I snapped."

"Hey…" He laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her, trying to get her to look at him. "I know how important your work is. I couldn't do my job half as well without you. I was having a bad day myself yesterday, and it must have show in my voice more than I realized."

"It's okay."

"And you know why I call you Bones, don't you?" he persisted.

Her eyes met his and she smirked at him. "To torture me and remind me that you're the cop and I'm not?"

He shook his head and gestured for her to sit down, his hand sliding down her arm as he settled himself on the stone steps. "No. I mean, it may have started out that way, but that isn't why I keep doing it."

"It's not?"

"No," he repeated firmly. "I call you that because you're good at your job—the best, in fact. I'm proud to have you as a partner and a friend, and the nickname is just my juvenile way of showing it."

"Really?"

He reached for her shoulder again and squeezed it affectionately. "Yeah."

"Well then, can I give _you_ a nickname?"

He laughed, sliding his arm around her back and pulling her right up next to him. "We'll see."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Brennan spoke again. "Hey Booth?"

"Yeah?"

She leaned over and rested her head against his. "I'm proud of you, too."

He smiled contentedly, his heart swelling at her words. "Thanks Bones."


	10. Threesome

A/N: Well, the rain from what's left of Hurricane Ernesto is seriously coming down here and I'm stuck in the house, but that means I have more time to write so I have a new "moment" for you :-) A quick note on this one: I read a fic a while back where Booth's little boy calls Brennan "Dr. Bones", and I've borrowed that nickname here. I can't remember which story it came from or who wrote it, but if it was you and you'd rather I didn't use it, just let me know. My work has been ripped off in the past--and used badly--and I don't want to do that to someone else.

Anyway, enjoy this and stay tuned for more!

----------

"Okay, that's it," Booth sighed tiredly at his desk, dropping the report he held and rubbing his eyes. "That's the last statement we're reading today."

Across from him, Brennan looked up from the folder in her lap, surprised. "But we still have four more to go, and then we have to…"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Nope, no more. It's nine o'clock on a Friday night, and we are _both_ getting out of here."

She opened her mouth to protest again, but caught the determined look in his eyes and changed her mind. _He's so stubborn sometimes,_ she thought. _And he won't listen to reason when he gets like that._ "Okay," she said instead, closing her folder.

"And don't think you're going back to the lab to keep working by yourself, either," he added with a knowing look.

_Damn. _"Booth, I don't mind…"

"That's not the point, Bones," he replied. "Everybody needs time away from their job. If you never get away from work, you burn out. You gotta take a break."

"I do, huh?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. _He sounds like he working up to telling me something._

He caught the eyebrow and frowned. _Does she know what I'm going to say? _He shook himself mentally and nodded. "Yeah, you do. Parker and I are going to the Nationals game tomorrow, and I think you should come with us."

"The Nationals?"

"Baseball, Bones," he explained. "We have Major League Baseball in DC now."

"Oohh," she nodded. "But I know nothing about baseball."

"That's okay. I'll teach you the rules…it'll be fun."

"I have to learn the rules? I thought you said I needed a break," she smirked.

He chuckled. "Then come with us and enjoy the weather and the crowd and the stadium food. Have a hot dog and some Cracker Jacks."

"Hot dogs! Booth, do you know what's in those?"

"No, Bones," he replied quickly. "And I don't want to know. I just want you to come to the game, okay?"

Brennan pressed her lips together, giving serious thought to his request. "I don't know," she said quietly. "You don't get to see your little boy that much, and I don't want to intrude on the time you spend with him."

"You wouldn't be intruding," he told her. "In fact, it was Parker's idea to invite you."

That caught her off guard her. "It was?"

He nodded, a faint pink creeping into his cheeks as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the office. "I guess I talk about you a lot when he's around—you know, because we work together so much." He cleared his throat and forced himself to make eye contact again. "He wants to meet you, Bones, and I think it's a good idea."

"I don't know," she repeated. "I'm not good with children…you know that."

"First of all, you're better with kids than you think. Remember that foster kid we questioned a while back? He wouldn't talk to anyone else—clamed up tight." Booth lowered his voice and looked directly into her eyes. "But he talked to you." He let the statement hang in the air a moment, then smiled lightly and relaxed in his chair. "Besides, you don't have to be good with kids. You just have to get along with _my _kid."

"You really want me to come?"

"Yeah," he replied, his smile softening. "I want Parker to know you…and you to know him. It's important to me."

She didn't hesitate this time. "Then of course I'll go."

"Great!" he grinned. "We'll pick you up at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning."

He walked her out to her car, drawing protectively closer to her when they exited the building and moved through the dark Washington night, explaining to her the process of going to a baseball game so she would know what to expect.

The next morning, Booth was grinning excitedly as he guided Brennan and Parker through the gates at RFK Stadium.

The little boy clung to his father's hand, skipping eagerly around the concourse. "Come _on_, Daddy!" he urged. "Hurry Dr. Brennan!" He grabbed Brennan's hand and pulled her, along with Booth, toward the concession stand. "We have to get hot dogs before the game starts!"

The adults shared a look over his head and smiled, Brennan a bit uncertainly, Booth contentedly. They purchased the eagerly awaited hot dogs, along with programs and pencils, and found their way to their seats. Parker again situated himself between his father and new friend, distributing food as he saw fit and pointing out his favorite players warming up on the field.

As the day progressed, the two "men" showed Brennan how to keep score in her program, and taught her how to properly taunt the opposing team. They played off each other perfectly when they explained the events of the game by mimicking their favorite play-by-play announcer. And when Brennan caught a wayward fly ball—more out of awkward self-defense than actual skill—both Parker and Booth high-fived her proudly.

At the end of the day the three climbed into Booth's SUV, sunburned and tired and happy, fighting their way through the throng of traffic.

They rode along in comfortable silence all the way to Brennan's home before Booth spoke. "So what did you think, Bones?" he asked, turning to her and shifting the vehicle into park.

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Parker's voice from the back seat. "Your name is really _Bones_?" he asked with wide eyes, finally voicing the question that he had been aching to ask all day.

Brennan tried to answer, but not before shooting her partner a menacing glare. "No, my name isn't really Bones," she explained. "It's just something your father calls me…"

"It's a nickname," Booth jumped in. "Like when I call you partner or kiddo."

"You told me you call me that because you love me," the child continued. "Do you love Dr. Brennan, too?"

Booth blushed again for the second time in two days. "Well, I like her very much, bud. She's a good friend of mine." He glanced over at his partner apologetically, but was amazed to find her eyes shining, her lips curved into a soft smile.

"And that's why you call her Bones?" Parker persisted, oblivious to the adults' exchange.

"Yeah," Booth told his son, holding Brennan's gaze for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Then can I call her that, too, Daddy? 'Cause I like her a lot!"

"Parker, I don't think…"

"It's okay, Booth," Brennan told him quietly.

"It isn't very respectful," he worried.

Parker piped up again. "How 'bout _Dr_. Bones, Daddy. That's re'pectful, right?"

Brennan giggled at the little boy. "Right."

Booth relented and switched off the engine, climbing out of the car and instructing Parker to stay put while he walked "Dr. Bones" to her door.

"…because that's what a good man does for a lady."

"I want to be a good man, too!" Parker insisted. "Can I walk with you?"

"Sure pal," Booth grinned.

With Booth's hand on her back and Parker's hand firmly gripping hers, Brennan was escorted to her door and inserted her key in the lock. "I had a really good time today," she told her partner, leaving the key and turning to him.

"Consider this another lesson in your pop culture education," he grinned back, running a hand down her arm.

Parker threw his arms out, motioning for Brennan to lean down. When she did, the little boy hugged her tightly and planted a wet kiss cheerily on her cheek. "Will you come to the game with us again?"

Hesitating briefly, she slid her arms around the small body and hugged gently back. When she released him, she straightened up and ruffled his hair affectionately, her eyes meeting his father's.

"I think I'd like that."


	11. In The Midnight Hour

A/N: I'm all about the angst tonight! Although, if there were such thing, I would consider this fluffy angst as opposed to the other story I posted where the fluff content is very low. At any rate, I have another section here for you, and my apologies in advance: it may be just a little bit longer before I post the next chapter than I'd like it to be. School started last week, and I am one seriously busy teacher and coach, so bear with me until things settle down. I have a few tricks up my sleeve to make it up to you later ;-)

A/N 2: This chapter is inspired by the episode "The Soldier On The Grave"--which gets me all worked up every time I see it--and by HawkeyeGirl's wonderful piece "Secrets". If you haven't read it, go find it. It's definately worth the time.

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Booth appeared in the doorway of Brennan's office, a manila folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Hey Bones," he greeted her. "Got a new case…"

She swiveled in her chair at her desk and was immediately struck by how awful he looked. His face was haggard, the dark shadows under his contrasted sharply by the paleness of his skin. His tie hung loosely in his unbuttoned collar and his shoulders were slumped in a fashion that spoke volumes.

"Booth, are you okay? You look exhausted," she told him, the concern evident in her voice.

He nodded and waived her off. "I'm fine."

She rose from her chair and approached him, studying his face closely. "You're not fine," she replied. "If you were fine you wouldn't look so terrible."

"Thanks Bones," he responded with a weary smile. "You look lovely, too."

"Hey…" She reached out and brushed a hand over his arm, taking the bottom of the sleeve of his jacket in her fingers to get his attention. "You know I didn't mean to be rude. You come into my office looking like you didn't sleep all night, and that makes me worry about you. What's going on?"

He sighed and allowed her to lead him over to the couch, where they sat facing each other. "I look like I didn't sleep all night because I didn't," he said slowly. "But it isn't a big deal…"

"Why didn't you sleep last night?" she persisted.

"Bones, it's not…"

"…a big deal," she finished for him. "Yes, you said that. But I think it is. Is everything all right?"

_She really is worried_, he realized. _But I've never told anybody._

Then he remembered the words he had spoken to her only a handful of weeks ago: _"It isn't okay if it's a secret."_

_And you told her one of your secrets then_, his mind prompted. _You can tell her this one, too._

"It was a nightmare," he conceded reluctantly. "One of those really vivid ones that seem so real, even after you wake up." His voice began to tremble and he stopped, clearing his throat in an effort to maintain his composure.

_What do I say?_ Brennan's brain screamed at her. _I don't know what to do!_ Instead of saying something she feared she'd regret she kept silent, dropping her eyes to her lap and letting him speak at his own pace.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his gaze, too, trained on their almost-touching knees. "I told you a little bit about when I was a sniper in the Army," he said quietly.

Brennan nodded. "Yes you did."

"About one of my…my…"

"Missions?" she supplied.

"Yeah," he responded, his lips curling with distaste. "One of my missions."

She nodded again. "Yes."

He lifted a hand and ran it unsteadily over his face. "And you know that I went on a lot of other missions like that."

"Yes."

He took another breath and shifted his eyes further away from hers, embarrassed and frightened all at the same time. "Every so often, those missions sort of come back to haunt me. I…I have…nightmares…about what I did…"

The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking, and Brennan knew she had to do something. Following an instinct that was still developing, she reached over and laid a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "And you had one of these nightmares last night?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he said again, leaning into her touch. "I dreamed that I was working on a case—an FBI case—and I kept trying to interview witnesses, but no one would talk to me. They kept running away, screaming, terrified of me, and I didn't know why. Then I realized I was wearing my Ranger uniform, and I was covered in blood…the blood of the people I had killed…" He paused for a breath, hearing the tremor returning to his voice, trying to steady it before it turned into something he couldn't control.

She slid her hand along his back, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

Booth turned to her, his eyes wide with fright. "I woke up and I couldn't breathe," he continued. "My heart was pounding and…and I was really scared."

The next words came out almost as a whisper, and Brennan had to lean closer to hear.

"I wanted to call you, Bones," he confessed. "I _needed_ you there last night…but I couldn't…"

"You could have," she assured him firmly. "I would have come…and I _will_ come anytime…"

He pulled away from her despite his anxiety and shook his head resolutely. "No. _I'm_ supposed to protect _you_." He caught the look on her face and met her gaze. "I know you don't think you need protecting—and maybe sometimes you don't—but it's my job to do it anyway, and I can't do that if you see me like that…like this…"

"You can't protect me if I see you facing a nightmare?" she asked, puzzled.

He shook his head again, the powerlessness he was feeling showing though the tough mask he tried to wear. "How can you have faith in my strength if you see me when I'm weak?"

The fledgling instinct kicked in again, and Brennan wrapped her arm tightly around her partner, pulling him to her. "It isn't weak to seek comfort when you need it, Seeley," she said softly. "It isn't weak to face your fears. It takes courage to do that…and so much strength."

"No…"

"Yes," she interrupted firmly. "Do you remember how you held me when you found me in that abandoned building?" she asked quietly. "I was…terrified…and you found me and wrapped your arms around me and let me cry…" Her voice trailed off and she let the memory form fully in her mind before she spoke again. "Did you think I was weak then?"

His brown eyes met her blue ones. "Of course not," he told her. "Someone had just tried to kill you…"

"And that was a major event in my life, right?" she prompted.

"Uh, yeah."

She smiled a little. _He must be feeling at least a _little_ better—the sarcasm is back._ "This was a major event in your life, too," she reminded him. "Being a sniper had a profound effect on you, and it's okay to need help dealing with the ramifications."

A tiny smile pulled at his lips, too. "You always know just what to say," he quipped lightly.

"As long as you listen to it," she said seriously.

"I did," he assured her, taking her free hand in his and squeezing gently.

"And you'll call me—anytime—if you need me?"

He nodded. "I will."

"Promise?"

"On one condition."

"What?" she wondered.

His smile grew. "That you call me by my first name more often." _It sounds good when you say it._

She looked into his eyes for a moment. _You know I'd do anything for you. _"I'll try."

"You'll try?" The brown irises twinkled.

She chuckled. "And only outside of work, too. On the job, we have to keep a professional relationship…"

He leaned close again, touching his forehead to hers. "Thanks, Temperance," he said softly.

She squeezed his shoulders again. "You're welcome, Seeley."


	12. Just the Two of Us

A/N: Whew! What a week! And this one's looking like it's gonna be a doozie, too. But never fear, Booth & Brennan are here! (Yeah, that's the sleep deprivation talking.) Anyway, some more fluff for you today with our first mention of David, so you know the story is going to get a bit more complicated here soon--but that's all I'm going to tell you ;-) Enjoy this!

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Brennan and Booth walked out of the courthouse together, pulling their coats on in the cooling evening air as their stomachs rumbled simultaneously.

Booth looked at his partner and grinned. "I think that was a sign, Bones."

She nodded solemnly. "It was a sign that we're hungry."

The grin turned into a chuckle. "Nice one. I see some of my razor-sharp wit has rubbed off on you."

"Your 'razor-sharp wit'?" she repeated, one eyebrow cocked cynically. "I think my wit was quite sharp before I met you."

"About as sharp as my 'basic reasoning skills'?" he smirked, using a phrase she had turned on him early in their partnership.

"Oh no," she shook her head. "Much sharper than that."

The chuckled morphed into a full-fledged laugh. "Two for two, Bones."

They bantered on, climbing into Booth's SUV for the trip back to the Jeffersonian. About halfway there, Brennan's stomach growled loudly again and she turned a thought over in her mind. _Has he had any more trouble with nightmares? He seems to have been okay lately, but I want him to feel comfortable calling me for personal reasons if he needs to._

"Hey Booth, do you have any plans for dinner tonight?"

_Is she checking up on me? _"I was thinkin' 'bout getting a pizza and watching the Redskins game," he answered, flipping a quarter absently in one hand while they waited at a stoplight. "You want to join me?"

"Actually, I was thinking maybe we could eat out."

"Wong Foo's?"

"No, let's go somewhere else."

He mulled that one over, weaving through the rush-hour traffic with one hand on the steering wheel. "Hmmm…there's a little place over on F Street that has great cheeseburgers," he suggested.

"Won't they be busy this time of day?" she wondered, always the practical one.

Booth shook his head confidently. "Nope. Only a handful of people ever go in there."

"Why is that?" Brennan asked suspiciously.

"Don't worry, Bones," he replied, winking flashing his best "trust me" smile. "They empty the rat traps before they open."

Parking wasn't too bad for DC, and the pair found a space close enough to the restaurant after only twenty minutes of searching. They exited the car and crossed the street, Booth's arm resting lightly around Brennan's waist, where it remained as the pair hurried up the sidewalk.

_When did that happen? _she wondered. _Booth's arm is all the way around me instead of on my back where it usually is. But this isn't the first time he's put his arm around me is it? He's been even more protective of me since he told me about that nightmare, trying to emphasize his strength._

"Right here, Bones," he said, breaking through her musings and steering her toward the restaurant door.

She let him pull open the door for her, another thought entering her mind. _I wonder what David would think?_

Dinner was uneventful, filled with stories and anecdotes of childhoods and life outside of work. Smiles, chuckles, smirks, and even a few giggles were scattered through the conversation, complimenting the teasing and mocking and banter that flew between them.

All too soon, the desert dishes were cleared and Brennan and Booth were both stifling yawns.

"We should get going," he decided rather reluctantly. "But this was nice—just you and me, and no work…not even any talking about work. We always talk about cases when we go to Wong Foo's."

"This _was_ nice," she agreed, rising from her chair and moving toward her coat.

Booth intercepted her and grabbed it before she could, holding it out for her and helping her carefully into it. He squeezed her shoulders gently, his lips curving into a smile.

"Thanks," she murmured appreciatively, thoughts of David's possible reaction nibbling at the edge of her consciousness again.

Lifting his own coat off the empty chair where he had put it during dinner, Booth struggled with it a moment before yanking it crookedly on.

Brennan smothered an amused smile. "Here, let me help you…"

"No, Bones, I got it."

"But you're all tangled up." She reached for his lapels despite his attempts to brush her off. "Hold still," she instructed, planting her palms firmly on his chest.

He did as he was asked, heaving a melodramatic sigh. "Fine."

She righted the coat, untwisting the fabric and smoothing it out gently, absently studying his body as she worked. "Hey," she said, her movements halting as her eyes refocused on his. "That's the tie I gave you."

He smiled his patented "charm smile". "Yeah, it is. I wore it especially for court today."

Recognizing the expression on his face and the tone of his voice, she was suddenly thankful the lighting was dim so he wouldn't see the pink creeping into her cheeks. _He's flirting with me again. _"It looks nice on you."

"Thanks," he grinned. "You know, though, I thought it was black, but when I put it next to my black suits it turned out to be…"

"…purple," she finished, her blue eyes twinkling. "It's Northwestern purple, actually."

"Northwestern purple? How's that different from regular purple?"

She grinned. "This shade of purple," she picked up the ends of the tie, "is one of the official school colors at Northwestern University…"

"…which is where you earned your college degree," he added, taking his turn to complete her sentence.

"My Bachelor's degree," she confirmed, pleased that he remembered. "I did my graduate work here in DC at American University, but Northwestern is where I started out."

He thought that one over. "So when I wear this tie, it's like I have a little part of you with me."

She was surprised and touched by his remark. "Is that how you think of it?"

"Yeah," he replied softly.

Brennan suddenly felt self-conscious and dropped her gaze to the tie. Realizing she was still holding it, she released the dark material and patted his chest uncertainly. "There," she continued in a quiet voice, taking a step back, "you're untangled now."

He smiled gently, triggering another wave of speculation in her mind. _What would David say? He doesn't like Booth at all. Angela thinks he's jealous of him. But why would David be jealous of Booth?_

"Ready?" Booth interrupted, and she didn't have a chance to ponder any further.

Shaking the question from her thoughts, she nodded. "Yeah."

He slid his arm around her, affectionately, protectively, mirroring his actions on the way in to the restaurant. She smiled. _Whatever David thinks is his problem,_ she decided. _Booth is my friend and I'm not giving him up._


	13. Connection

Brennan sat curled up on her couch, buried in a pile of textbooks and professional journals, when she heard a knock on her door. Rising to answer it, she discovered David on the other side, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Surprise!" he grinned.

"David," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I know I should have called because you hate surprises, but I couldn't help myself," he explained sheepishly. "I wanted to see you so badly I just came right over."

She showed him inside, accepting the flowers. "That's very sweet, but I'm working…"

"At home at this time of night? Booth's got you on a short leash, huh?"

_His voice sounds strained. _"A leash? Leashes are for pets, David. I hope you're not implying that I am Booth's pet."

He smiled. "It's an expression, Tempe. It means he basically watches your every move and keeps you very busy so you don't do something he doesn't like."

She put the bouquet in a vase and brought it out to the living room. "Oh. Well, that doesn't sound like Booth at all. We work _together_, and we both do a lot of things the other person doesn't like."

"But he's around a lot. Maybe more than he needs to be," David suggested carefully. "Like right now…he's not here now is he?"

"What? Of course he's not here now," she shot back, her temper beginning to flare.

The spark in her eyes coupled with her swift reaction rekindled an insight in his mind. "I knew it," he replied softly. "I saw it the first time we met, in the interrogation room…I knew it then. But you assured me it was nothing, and I believed you."

"David, what are you talking about?" she snapped.

He frowned and met her gaze. "I'm talking about you being in love with Booth."

"What?!" she practically yelped. "I'm in love with _Booth_?"

"Yes, you are," he insisted steadily. "And it's too bad, too. We could really have had something together."

Still in shock from his accusation, Brennan didn't realize what he was saying. "Could have had…?"

David nodded. "I think it's best, at least until you resolve this thing with your partner, that we don't see each other anymore."

The even tone of his voice struck her. "You don't seem too upset about it. Aren't people supposed to be upset when they break up? That _is_ what we're doing, right?"

David nodded. "I guess a little part of me knew better than to get too attached," he decided. "But I am disappointed in your choice of alternatives."

"Not that I'm agreeing with your assumption regarding me and Booth," she prefaced her response, her curiosity getting the better of her, "but why would you be disappointed if I chose him instead of someone else that wasn't you?"

He sighed. "Come on, Tempe. He's rough-mannered, he's blue-collar, he treats you like his assistant instead of his partner, and the man has never even taken a class at a _community_ college! You're cultured, refined…you have a doctoral degree and board certification in Forensic Anthropology for God's sake! You deserve someone so much better than him."

The anger that had been building inside her flashed into such a rage that she didn't even think to correct his misconceptions. "Get out!" she yelled, her finger shooting out in the direction of the door. "You come here without calling, bring up Booth so you can ask me about my feelings for him, accuse me of being in love with him…and then you insult him? He is my partner, and my friend, and I will _not_ stand here and let you speak of him this way!"

"Tempe…" he stuttered, stunned by her reaction. _She never had that kind of passion for me._

"No, David. You don't want to see me again? Fine. Leave!"

Another attempt at protest was squashed with lightning speed, and seconds later David stalked out the door, trying to hide the I-told-you-so smirk he knew was forming on his lips.

Brennan leaned against the closed door attempting to calm herself, more amazed by her response than David had been. _What the hell was that?! _She paced around the living room for a few minutes, continuing the attempt to compose herself, knowing it wasn't working.

"Okay," she said aloud in her most reasoned voice, "there are only two ways I can get past this. I can vent my anger here in the living room, where no one will ever know how…" She searched for the appropriate word and was surprised when she found what it was. "…_upset_ I am. Or I can do something else, something that requires my full and undivided attention…"

She glanced around the room, her eyes falling on the textbooks and journals she had been wading through for one of her current cases. "Those should work nicely."

Five minutes later she knew she was wrong. She couldn't focus on the case, or even on the words right in front of her. _I'm an excellent reader, but I've read this page three times and I still have no idea what it says._ She dumped the books unceremoniously onto the floor and rose, grabbing her jacket, keys and cell phone on her way out the door. Punching the appropriate speed dial button, she climbed into the driver's seat of her car and turned the key. A quick conversation assured her that she was welcome where she intended to go despite the late hour, and she sped off.

Booth opened the door before she had a chance to knock. "Hey Bones," he greeted her, trying to disguise the worry in his voice. "Come on in."

"How did you know I was here already?" she wondered, slowly entering his home.

He closed the door behind her. "I was just going to get something out of the car," he fibbed, unwilling to admit he'd been watching for her. The he shifted the topic of conversation back to his partner. "So what's going on? You were very cryptic on the phone."

Brennan sighed. "David came over tonight."

_Great. Boyfriend troubles._ He forced himself to remain calm. "What happened?"

She moved into the living room and began pacing around, picking up where she had left off in her own home. "He showed up at my door without calling," she explained. "Then he started looking for you…"

"For me?" Booth interrupted. "Why?"

Brennan shook her head. "I don't know. Something about a leash."

_A leash? I always knew there was something wrong with that guy._

She continued pacing. "Then he started talking about how I'm in love with you…how he knew it the first time I met him face to face in the interrogation room that day…"

Booth's expression softened unconsciously. "There are worse things he could say."

She halted suddenly and threw out her hands. "But he did! He said that you were rough-mannered and blue-collar, that you treat me poorly, and you were uneducated…"

"And what did you say to that?" Booth asked quietly, his own anger beginning to simmer.

Brennan shook her head and dropped her hands. "I told him to get out," she answered, matching his tone, though the fury was still written plainly on her face. "I made him leave."

_She broke up with her boyfriend over me?!_ He quickly pushed the thought aside and re-focused on her. Taking a few steps toward her, he brushed a hand over her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She sighed heavily and frowned. "I supposed I will be. I'm disappointed that I won't have David's companionship anymore—he seemed like the perfect complimentary personality for me, and I really enjoyed spending time with him."

Booth felt his heart sink just a little bit—_but he's such an ass!—_and again subdued his feelings.

Brennan lifted her bright blue eyes to his dark brown ones and said firmly, "Maybe you're not as educated as I am, or very cultured or refined, but you _are_ intelligent and excellent with people and a good friend to me. Everyone has faults, but I don't want to be with anyone who is so closed-minded he can't see what kind of man you _really_ are. You're an important part of my life."

He was touched by her words, by her body language as she spoke them—her voice gentle, her eyes shining. But he refused to show it. Instead, he reached out and rested a hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him in an effort to comfort her. "Geez, Bones," he grinned, "you're gettin' all sentimental on me."

She smiled back, noting the teasing quality of his voice, and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "You always know what to say to make me feel better."

"It isn't the words, Temperance," he replied, wrapping both arms around her and allowing some seriousness into his tone. "It's about the connection with the person who says them."

The use of her first name triggered another smile, this one softer than the last. She stretched her arms around his neck and hugged him, suppressing her scientific explanation of Booth's "connection" theory for the moment. "And you and I have that."

_She's learning. It wasn't a question or a dissertation on the science of human emotion,_ he grinned to himself. _And she didn't mention that meathead who broke up with her._ "Yeah," he replied, squeezing her affectionately. "We do."


	14. Hold On, I'm Comin'

A/N: First, _gracias_, _spacibo_, _danke_, _merci_, _grazi_, _domo_ _arigato_...and how ever many other ways I can think of to say thank you! I've been severly lacking with the individual thanks, but I wanted to make sure I told you all how much I appreciate your feedback. Even after all these chapters I still feel nervous posting _Bones_ stuff, still feel new at it and not quite good enough, but you guys always reasure me when I do well, and are so sweet in correcting me when I make an error. You all are writers and know how much responses like that mean, but I wanted to say it anyway. THANK YOU!

A/N 2: The lyrics quoted in this section are from the song "Hold On, I'm Comin'" by Sam & Dave, which are, unfortunately, not mine. This song has been one of my absolute favorites for as long as I can remember, and the lyrics just seemed to fit Booth and Brennan so well...I only hope I did it (and them) justice. If you've never heard it...what are you waiting for? Go find it and crank it up _really_ loud! ...right after you read this chapter ;-)

Enjoy!

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Booth rose from the couch in Brennan's office and paced restlessly around the room. It was late and he was more tired than he realized. And their case was going nowhere.

Running a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck, he loosened his tie and rubbed muscles sore from too many hours of reading reports and studying photographs. His eyes roamed as he walked, noting the emptiness of the rest of the lab and envying the Squints who had all gone home for the night.

Midway through his third lap around the office, he stopped in front of a shelf he had seen many times before. "Hey Bones, since when do you have a stereo in your office?"

Brennan looked up from her computer. "Since I started working here," she responded.

"Really?" His eyebrows bunched together. "I don't remember it being here."

She pushed back from her desk and stood, walking slowly over to him, working out the kinks in her own body. "Well, it _is_ here."

"When do you use it?" he persisted, reaching out to examine the object in question as he spoke. "You don't listen to music when you work because you think it's distracting, and you don't take breaks…"

She took hold of his wrist firmly and pulled it away from the stereo. "I do so take breaks," she insisted, glaring at him.

"What? When? When your eyeballs turn into sand, your brain becomes jell-o, and you fall asleep at your desk?" he smirked.

"For your information," she shot back, "eyeballs cannot turn into sand, nor can brain matter transform into jell-o." She paused briefly, her eyes shifting away from his before she mumbled, "And I only fell asleep at my desk once."

His dark eyes twinkled. "Once that I caught you."

She huffed irritably and shuffled a few steps away.

"Why don't we fire up this baby now?" Booth asked, changing the subject. "We could both use a break…"

"I don't need a break," Brennan shook her head. "I'm going to keep working."

"Come on Bones, you just told me that you take breaks sometimes. Take one now," he cajoled, grasping her elbow lightly and directing her back toward him. "Think of it as another lesson in your pop culture education. I'll pick out a radio station, and we'll just relax and enjoy the music for a few minutes."

She pressed her lips together and frowned, but relented, not ready to sit back down again. "Fine."

He released her and clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation before pressing the power button and turning the tuning dial. Settling on an oldies station, he twisted the volume knob until the DJ's voice blared from the speakers.

"Booth! That's too loud!" she reprimanded. "Turn it down!"

He grinned. "There's nobody here but us."

She reached past him and jerked the volume control to the left. "That's better."

"Now it's too quiet." With a flick of his wrist he turned the volume back up, but not to the extreme level it had been. "This is a good compromise."

Saxophones began playing the opening notes of the next song, and Booth turned back to her with a goofy grin.

"Dance with me, Bones," he prompted cheerfully.

He held his hand out to her and she stared at it when she answered. "Here? In the lab?"

"Come on. No one else is here, remember? It'll be a good way to loosen up all those stiff muscles."

_Don't you ever feel sad  
Lean on me when times are bad  
When the day comes and you're down  
In a river of trouble and about to drown_

She accepted his hand and allowed him to draw her to him. His grin widened and he slipped his arm around her waist, quickly falling into rhythm with the jazzy beat.

_Just hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'_

"I like this song," Brennan declared as they moved. "The horns are repetitive but energizing, and the vocalist obviously takes pleasure in his work…"

"See?" he replied, pleased to see her enjoying herself. "I knew you'd like it. That's why I turned it up so loud."

"The song wasn't even playing yet when you turned up the volume," she scoffed.

_I'm on my way, your lover  
If you get cold, yeah, I will be your cover  
Don't have to worry, 'cause I'm here  
Don't need to suffer baby, 'cause I'm near_

His hand inched further across her back, drawing her closer as he chuckled. "Okay, you got me. But you admit my taste in music is not as awful as you thought? This is a good song?"

She nodded. "It's simple, but very catchy."

"And the lyrics are good, too," he smiled, his tone becoming a bit softer. "Kinda reminds me of you and me."

That surprised her. "Really?"

_Just hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'_

"Yeah," he confirmed. "It's all about two people taking care of each other, and that's what we do, right? I'm here for you when you need me, and you're there for me."

She moved a half-step closer, slipping her hand from his shoulder to his back. "That is what we do," she smiled.

_Reach out to me for satisfaction, yeah  
Call my name for quick reaction  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah_

He twirled her around, his eyes twinkling as he flashed her his patented charm smile and pulled her back to him, squishing up his face and singing zealously along with the last verse.

_Now don't you ever feel sad  
Lean on me when the times are bad  
When the day comes and you're down, baby  
In a river of trouble and about to drown_

Her laugh rang out over the sound of the music at the contortions of his features and the enthusiasm with which he sang. When she noticed the sincerity in his eyes as he mimicked she quieted a bit, knowing without being told that he meant the lyrics for her just as surly as if he'd spoken them to her walking down the street. Acting on impulse—a rare occurrence for her—she threw her arms around him suddenly and held him tightly.

As soon as the impulse came it left, and she loosened her grip, turning her attention back to the music and singing the chorus with a fervor matching his own.

_Just hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'_

They danced energetically to two more songs and walked around the vacant lab a few minutes before ending their break and returning to their case. Booth sighed heavily and plopped back on Brennan's couch, pushing aside the suit jacked he had discarded hours ago and picking up one of the file folders next to it. Brennan resumed her position at her computer, commanding her brain to shift its attention back to the task at hand.

Her brain, however, refused the commands, dwelling instead on the dances with Booth. She could still feel the warm pressure of his hand holding hers, his arm around her waist. Her stomach did little flips when she thought of the look in his eyes as he held her, borrowing the forty-year-old lyrics to convey his feelings for her. Her heart beat faster as she caught a faint whiff of his cologne from across the room.

_These are all biological indicators of attraction,_ she rationalized. _And I've been attracted to him from the first day we met. It's a chemical response aimed at insuring the continuation of the species, nothing more._

It was an explanation she had given herself many times before, but it seemed hollow this time. Sam & Dave's lyrics floated across her memory, adding to the dissatisfaction left by her logic. "_Don't you ever feel sad, lean on me when times are bad…don't have to worry, 'cause I'm here, don't need to suffer baby, 'cause I'm near…"_

_What if something happened to Booth? _The question entered her mind before she could stop it, and her stomach instantly tightened into a mass of quivering knots. She lifted a hand from her keyboard and placed it on her abdomen, discovering that her palms were becoming clammy with anxiety as well.

_I don't want to think about that_, she thought determinedly. _It's useless to dwell on events that have not yet happened._

She frowned and leaned an elbow on her desk, resting her chin in her hand, her eyes roving toward her couch. His head was bent low as he read, his face giving away his fatigue but also his determination to keep going. It was the same strong will he had show with her, saving her life on more than one occasion, working diligently on her parents' disappearance despite the little information there was to go on. She knew that the lyrics he had sung to her were true, that he really would take care of her. She knew, too, that she would always be there to take care of him, however awkward she was with other people.

He glanced up from the stack of papers he was reading and caught her staring at him. She quickly averted her eyes, pretending to have been working at the computer the whole time, but not before a realization hit her, and hit her hard.

She was in love with her partner.


	15. Analyze This

A/N: You guys are spoiling me with all your great reviews! Not that I'm complaining, of course ;-) To show my appreciation, I have for you another chapter full of fluffy angst. One quick little note, though, first. Booth mentions his education at one point in this one, and I've taken some liberty with the specifics because they haven't yet divulged those details on the show. Everything else should be pretty self-explanatory, so enjoy!

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Brennan sat at her desk attempting to work on one of her latest cases. Every few minutes, though, her eyes would wander away from her computer screen and focus themselves on the stereo sitting on the shelf across the room. Her mind would then follow suit and leave the homicide investigation for memories of dancing with Booth, his breath on her skin, the dimples in his cheeks when he grinned, the sparkle in his eyes as he sang along with the song. She couldn't get past how she felt in his arms, so light and happy, comfortable, safe, loved.

_Loved._

There was that word again. She had been trying for a week to convince herself that it wasn't love she felt for Booth, because love wasn't real anyway. Love was just a chemical process in the human body to ensure that people would bond together and have children in furtherance of the species. The need for companionship was similar and also biologically encoded in her brain. But that, unlike love, was a need she understood on a personal level and was willing to acknowledge. It was the reason she had agreed to try online dating in the first place.

And it led her to David. Finding him had been wonderful—he was intellectual, good looking, and easy to talk to. They shared many of the same interests, and enjoyed spending time together. But Brennan knew she never had the same reactions to David that she had to Booth. Her heart never fluttered when David called her by name. She never felt her cheeks grow warm under his gaze. Her stomach never flip-flopped when he touched her. She never had problems concentrating when he was around.

_But I'm not looking for any of that_.

Those were merely physical responses, and while that aspect of a relationship was nice, it was the cerebral facet that was always most important to her. She'd had that with David. And the biological reactions to Booth she simply chalked up to the attraction for her partner that she had eventually admitted to herself. As her relationship with David progressed, though, she felt an odd emptiness with him, as if something were missing. Brennan realized she hadn't even been that distressed when he broke up with her—she had been more upset over the way he had spoken about Booth.

Her thoughts drifted back to her partner. In the time she had known him, he had always been able to make her _feel_, despite her determination not to. Anger. Hurt. Determination. Superiority. Inferiority. Vulnerability. Friendship. Comfort. Trust. Affection.

_Love._

Love _was_ real. Somewhere deep down in the soul whose existence she denied, she knew it. She loved her parents and brother, loved them even though the scientist in her resolutely adhered to the anthropological explanations for such feelings. In fact, those explanations had actually made it easier for her to accept the feeling because there was a concrete, specific reason for it. With Booth, there was no reason for her emotions. She only knew that when she was with him, or thought of him, she felt different. Better somehow. Like she wasn't alone in the world, no matter what she did or said to alienate other people. Like she had a partner, not just on the job, but in life.

_We have a connection._

That's what he had said to her the night she broke up with David, that she and Booth had a connection. She had dismissed it as simple biochemistry at the time, but now she knew differently. They did have some sort of connection to each other, and she didn't know what it was or how it happened. She only knew that she treasured that connection, and the person on the other end of it, more than anything else in the world.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her eyes still focused on the radio across the room. She wondered if they would dance together again, if he would hold her that way again, if he would see in her face how she felt about him.

She wondered if he would ever feel that way about her.



A little way across town, Booth was sitting at his desk, too, trying to work on one of his current cases and having just as little luck as his partner. His eyes were focused on nothing in particular, but his mind had definitely honed in on a subject it wouldn't let go of.

Brennan was in love with him.

He had seen it in her expression a week ago after they had danced together in her office. He'd caught her staring at him, and though she immediately shifted back into business mode, he had seen the love for him written clearly on her face. He'd caught glimpses of the look before that night—when he used her first name, when he touched her, when he whispered something sweet to her—and he'd always been able to brush it off as a harmless crush, a purely physical attraction. But this time there was no denying it.

Booth sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands. She couldn't love him…she _couldn't_. Not because of the things David had called him—rough-mannered and uneducated? His upbringing and six years of night-classes at George Mason University would beg to differ. But David had gotten one thing right.

_I'm not good enough for her._

No woman would want to be with a hit man, and that's what he had been during his days as an Army Ranger. He had been a government-sanctioned serial-killer-for-hire, shooting people from long distances because, well, that was his job. He knew intellectually that his actions saved the lives of so many other people, that they were justified because he was fighting a war.

_But tell that to the parts of my soul that have rotted away and died._

And that's why she couldn't love him. He would taint her, drag her down into his own private version of hell bit by little bit, like some sort of Midas touch in reverse. He was actually surprised that nothing had gone terribly wrong between them yet, that she could even still stand the sight of him after he told her about his last mission as a sniper. Of course, that had been only one of the many stories he could have chosen. How would she feel if he told her the rest? Would she look at him the way she looked at the murderers they questioned together, sickened and repulsed? Would she try to hide it and fail miserably? Would she come right out and insist on a new partner, or would she try to stick it out with him despite her disgust?

_I should ask to be reassigned now_.

He dismissed the idea even before it fully formed in his mind. He knew he couldn't stand the thought of Brennan's feelings toward him if she ever discovered the rest of the things he'd done, and by remaining her partner there was a good chance she would find out. But he also knew that he couldn't live with himself if anything happened to her.

_And no one will take better care of her than I do._

Booth was absolutely positive of that. He may not have been good enough to deserve her love, but he sure as hell was the one person who would protect her above all else. She was _the_ most important thing in his world, and he knew he'd give his life to keep her safe.

His upper body crumpled onto his desk under the weight of a sudden realization, his head buried in his arms.

_Because I love her._


	16. Truth and Consequences

A/N: TGIF! And not a moment too soon, either, let me tell you :-P Let's start the weekend out right with another chapter...just make sure you're sitting down for this one!

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Brennan sat beside Booth at the bar at Wong Foo's, picking at her food and fidgeting with her napkin. She glanced at him clandestinely from the corner of her eye, ordering her senses to calm down and her stomach to stop its endless flip-flopping. The skin of her hand tingled from where he had accidentally brushed against it reaching for the sugar for his coffee, and her heart pounded every time he spoke.

It was driving her crazy.

She sighed, more heavily then she had intended to and it caught his attention.

"Got somethin' on your mind, Bones?" he asked between mouthfuls.

Her lips curled into a frown and she shook her head. "Nope."

He took another bite and shot her a mirthful smirk. "You're a lousy liar, you know."

"I know," she replied, sighing again.

He wiped his mouth and turned to her, grasping her elbow gently. "So come on. Out with it. What's the matter?"

She swiveled on her stool, shifting her eyes from the counter to meet his gaze. _He reads me so well he probably already knows_, she thought to herself. _And we work together all the time…he should have all the facts._ "I…you know how much I hate psychology…" she began.

The smirk widened. "I'm familiar with your feelings on the subject, yeah," he chuckled.

"Well, it seems that psychology—or _something_—finally caught up with me a few days ago."

She paused to collect her thoughts, and his smile faded. "What happened?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Brennan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, commanding her voice to be steady. "I think I'm in love with you, Booth."

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded. _I _know _I didn't hear her right._

Then she started to ramble. "I don't know for sure, because…well, because I've never been in love and I thought it was just a bunch of unscientific nonsense, but the way you make me feel is so different from anything I've ever felt before…it _has_ to be love…" Her voice was rising in volume, and people seated nearby were turning around to look at them.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," he interrupted, throwing his hand out in front of him in a defensive gesture, his own voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "We are _not_ doing this here." He rose abruptly, pulling some money from his pocket and tossing it on the bar, then strode quickly from the restaurant.

Stunned into motionlessness for a moment, Brennan watched him get all the way to the sidewalk outside before jumping up and following him. "Booth! Wait!"

He shook his head, refusing to slow down.

"Booth!" she called again, running to catch up. "Wait, let me finish…"

He stopped suddenly and pivoted to face her. "There's more? It isn't enough that you just changed our relationship forever, loudly, in the middle of my favorite restaurant, which by the way, I can now never go to again? That wasn't enough for you?"

Brennan was stunned by his reaction. _I don't know how exactly I expected him to take the news, but this is so much worse than I ever thought it would be. _Her eyes dropped to her shoes and her voice became quiet. "I just thought you should know."

"Why?" he demanded. "Why did you feel the need to tell me something that's only going to ruin what we have?" He grabbed her arms and shook her, dialing back his anger so as not to hurt her, but allowing enough emotion through to get his point across. "You and Parker are the two best things in my life, Temperance," he told her through gritted teeth. "But now you've gone and screwed things up between us…"

She wriggled free, her eyes blazing as the shock began to wear off. "_I _screwed things up? How is my telling you that I'm in love with you screwing things up? We work closely together, we're in dangerous situations together, and I thought it was important that you know the truth!"

"Classic Brennan," he replied sarcastically, throwing his hands up in an exasperated gesture. "Can't just leave well enough alone, can you? You have to charge in with the cold, hard, _blunt_ truth when maybe, just _maybe_, blissful ignorance would be better for everybody!"

He jerked around and started back down the street, but she caught him by the shoulder. "Why is ignorance better?" she challenged, seeing something other than anger toward her in his eyes. "Why do you think I ruined what we have?"

He strained to take another step, but she refused to let go. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, he frowned, wondering how much he should tell her. _Might as well tell her everything,_ he decided. _It's the only way either of you will get through this._ He bowed his head and answered her softly. "Because we can't be together even though…even though I love you, too."

"We…you…"

"You deserve someone better than me—a _good_ man," he spat out. "I can never be that. How's that for truth?"

Her powers of speech slowly began to return, and her fingers slipped from his shoulder to his arm. "You _are_ that."

He shook his head again, still unable to look at her. "No, Bones, I'm not. You don't know the things I've done…"

"In the Army?" she clarified. "You told me…"

He turned to face her and met her blue eyes with his brown ones, all in one swift motion. "And I couldn't take the way you'd look at me if I told you the rest," he said dejectedly. "Rebecca couldn't either." He lifted a hand and covered her fingers with his, squeezing them gently before removing them from his arm. "Just let me go."

Brennan was surprised to find tears springing to her eyes. "Booth…no…"

He steeled himself against the sorrow in her voice and began walking. _Don't turn around…don't turn around…_

"Wait," she called, sniffling, desperately trying to remain composed. "I'm not the kind of woman who needs a man—you know that. But, Seeley…I need _you_…"

Booth felt a lump rise in his throat and bent his head, shielding his face from passersby, quickening his steps. _I need you too—so much—but this is for your own good._

He knew it wasn't good-bye forever. It wasn't even good-bye for the week because he'd walk into the lab tomorrow morning and continue working on their open cases like he always did. He would desperately pretend that this hadn't happened, brushing off all her attempts to say otherwise, no matter how much he wanted to hold her tightly in his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right after all. He'd soldier on and eventually so would she, because the two of them made up the best investigative team in a four-state area and neither of them would break that up.

But he also knew that whatever friendship, whatever _connection_ they had shared had now been shattered. His head bowed further and his hand came to his face, brushing away the tears that were forming in his eyes. He knew that, while their work would go on, their relationship had just died, yet another casualty of his sniper rifle.


	17. Killing Me Softly

A/N: You like me! You really like me! Lol...sorry, just a little Jim Carrey moment (from _The Mask_--I love that movie!). But I really am overwhelmed by the reviews you all are leaving...so many nice things to say about my crazy little story. I can't possibly say "thank you" enough times to thank you all properly for the support! But I can--and will--continue to torture you with new chapters without...like this one. And no hints about future sections either. You'll just have to keep reading to find out what happens :-P

Ready?

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"Hey Bones, we got a case…"

Booth's voice sounded almost normal, booming across the lab as he swiped his Jeffersonian ID through the card reader. It was _almost_ like nothing had happened between them, as if the argument out on the sidewalk in front of Wong Foo's was some really bad dream, from which Brennan had woken up safe and sound.

Almost.

Then her eyes met his and she knew it was all true. They really _had_ confessed their love for each other in the middle of the dinner rush. She really _had_ disclosed her new-found feelings in a straightforward, unemotional manner, and he really _did_ push her away and insist that he wasn't a good enough man for her.

_How can someone of his character think he isn't a good man?_ she wondered for the billionth time since it happened. _After all the things he's done for me? And then there are all the things he's done for people on the job, too…_

He made his way across the forensics platform, unable to maintain eye contact with her as he drew closer. His heart ached so much he couldn't even form words to describe it—a real, physical pain developing in his chest. He wanted to yell, to cry out, to curl up in a little ball and scream in frustration at the sight of her. _God I love her…and she loves me!_ He shook himself mentally and forced his mind back into focus. _This is for her protection_, he reminded himself. _I can't hurt her if we're not together._

"What do we have?" she asked, keeping her voice steady as he came to a stop in front of her.

He flipped open the manila folder he held and quickly outlined the case. "Skeletonized remains found in a corn field in Harwood, Maryland…"

She listened to his voice, but the words didn't register. Instead she focused on his hands as they moved in rhythm with his speech, still clutching the case folder. Her brain was flooded with memories of those hands touching her, resting on the small of her back, grasping her elbow, brushing the nape of her neck. She remembered the times his arms had slipped around her…watching movies on his couch…sitting together at the Jefferson Memorial…after David broke up with her. She kept going back to the way she felt in those arms, her cheek on his shoulder, his heart beating in his chest, assuring her that whatever the problem was, he would be there to help her though it.

_No one else has ever touched me like that before_, she realized. _Not since my parents disappeared. No one has ever been close enough to me emotionally to make me feel this way just by coming into physical contact with my body._ She frowned and tried to pay attention to what he was saying, but discovered she couldn't. _All I want is for him to touch me that way again…hold me they way he did when we danced in my office…I want to _feel_ that he loves me…_

Brennan frowned again and shook her head in attempt to clear it. "Okay, so we're taking a trip to Harwood."

"Yep," Booth confirmed. "Get your stuff—we're going for a ride."

She stripped off the latex gloves she'd been wearing and headed for her office, while he remained on the platform to wait. He watched her walk swiftly and surely through the lab, his eyes following her until she disappeared from view. When he could no longer see her, he sighed quietly. _She won't look at me for more than a second or two_, he mused. _And not in the same way she did…_ His mind wandered back over all the times she'd looked at him in the way that only she had ever looked at him—when he did the "Walk Like An Egyptian" dance at the American History Museum, when he told her about his nightmares, at the baseball game with Parker. Sometimes her eyes would grow soft and bright, sometimes she'd smile gently or laugh cheerfully, and sometimes she even blushed. But every time she looked at him _that way_, he could see her love for him expressed in every feature.

_Not anymore, though._

The rest of the day passed with wretched slowness for both partners. Their conversations remained painfully professional, their speech patterns clipped and curt, their contact with each other minimal. Brennan did her thing, while Booth did his. Separately.

They rode back to the lab together that night, exhausted, dirty, frustrated, and silent. When they arrived, Booth pulled into the parking garage and hopped out of the car, walking Brennan through the structure to the lab entrance the way he had done thousands of times before, unable to turn off his concern for her. He even reached a hand toward the small of her back out of protective habit until he remembered that he no longer had that option.

_This is going to be so much harder than I thought,_ he discovered. _I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this…_ He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye, studying her body language, her facial features, her eyes. His heart ached even more intensely and his own eyes closed briefly against the pain. _She's so calm about the whole thing,_ he mused. Then he realized that he was wrong. It wasn't calm that he saw in her demeanor. It was the wall she had built around herself. _That wall was just starting to come down! It took so long for her to let me in as much as she did, and now that's all gone—we're right back to where we started._ He glanced at her again and frowned, angry and sorrowful all at the same time. _Should we still be working so closely together? Is this really the right thing to do?_

"Well, here we are," he said as they walked into the lobby of the Jeffersonian, his voice gruff with hidden emotion.

"Here we are," she echoed, her expression neutral.

An awkward quiet hung in the air for a moment, then Booth cleared his throat. "I guess I'll go then. Just, uh…" He paused and pressed his lips together. "Just let the security guard walk you out to your car when you leave," he finished softly.

She watched him turn resolutely and was suddenly aware of so many feelings swirling around inside her. _I really do love him,_ she thought slowly. _And he loves me back. Isn't that supposed to be a good thing? Instead, we're not together, we're not even speaking outside of absolute professional necessity. What kind of life is this? I was better off before I loved him! _Her eyes followed him out of the lobby, noticing his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets, his slumped shoulders, his slightly bowed head. _I want to go to him, _she reflected. _But he knows so much more than I do about this kind of thing. And he would never do anything to hurt me…he's always trying to protect me. Maybe being apart really is the best way to handle this situation._

She sighed and headed off in the direction of her office. _I trust him with my life_, she decided. _I can trust him with my feelings too. As much as it hurts, I'll respect his wishes._


	18. Here By Me

A/N: I know I've been a little heavy on the angst the last couple of sections, but I'm not going to apologize for it --although if I really bummed you out, I _am_ sorry for that! But without giving anything away, I think I can safely say that this chapter is less angsty than the previous two and that, yes, there is more fluff in the future :-)

Enjoy!

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The shrill noise jarred Brennan awake. It was still dark out, and for a moment she thought perhaps her alarm clock had malfunctioned. After pounding on the thing a couple of times, though, she realized it was the phone that was ringing and felt around for that appliance instead.

"H-hello," she answered groggily.

"I need you…" a shaky, almost unrecognizable voice replied.

_What the hell?_ she thought, straining to make out the time on her damaged alarm clock. _Who needs me at two a.m.?_

"Bones…I need you," the voice repeated, the shaking growing worse.

Something clicked in the back of her brain. "Booth? What's wrong?"

She heard a sharp intake of breath. "I-I had another ni-nightmare," he managed, trying hard to keep himself together.

Even in her fuzzy state of mind she noticed something in his voice she'd never heard before. Fear.

In that instant, their self-induced separation was forgotten, the weeks of minimal, professional-only conversations gone, the anger and loneliness and confusion vanishing in the blink of an eye. "I'll be right there."

"Bones…hurry…please…"

"Just hold on," she told him firmly. "I'm coming."

Hanging up quickly, she grabbed her keys and cell phone, pulling a coat on as she dashed out to the car. She broke half the traffic laws on the books, noticing only vaguely somewhere in the middle of the drive that she had no ID with her and was still in her pajamas. But the observation disappeared from her mind when she pulled up to her destination and knocked on the door.

"Booth?" she called. "It's me…"

There was no answer, so she began to look for the spare key she knew he kept somewhere by the door. Finding it seconds later under the doormat—and wondering briefly how an intelligent FBI agent could leave a key to his home in such an obvious place—she slid it into the lock and swung open the door. "Booth?" The door closed behind her, shrouding her in darkness and forcing her to feel her way around as she tried to remember the layout of the place.

"Bones?" he answered shakily.

She followed the sound of his voice, tripping over a pair of shoes, a pile of children's books, and a misplaced kitchen chair before locating the bedroom. There she paused in the doorway, much the way she did when she first arrived at a crime scene, surveying the area and formulating a plan.

She stood there for a few moments before his voice broke her concentration. "Bones? Is that you?"

"Yeah," she answered, moving tentatively toward him. "I'm here…"

He sat in the middle of the queen-sized bed, his knees drawn up to his chest with the sheet draped loosely around them. He was shirtless, his skin damp with sweat and pale in the dim moonlight that filtered in through the curtains.

She reached out a hand and brushed it gently over his cheek. "I'm here, Seeley."

He turned his face into her palm and nuzzled it, seeking comfort from her touch. "I thought I lost you…"

"No, you didn't lose me," she said softly. "I'm right here."

"I really thought I did it this time," he shuddered, taking her hand from his cheek and squeezing it tightly.

She sat carefully down on the bed facing him and clasped his other hand in hers. "Did what? What did you think you did?"

"In the dream," he explained unsteadily, staring at his feet as he relived the nightmare. "I was a sniper again, out on an assignment. I had my target lined up in my sights and pulled the trigger…" He inhaled harshly and squeezed her hands harder, convincing himself that she really was there, safe and sound. "…then I realized that my target was _you_…but it was too late…"

"It was just a dream," she reassured him. "You would never do anything to hurt me in real life."

He raised his eyes to hers, round and fearful. "How do you know that? I _killed_ people…there's nothing worse than that."

She shifted on the bed, moving beside him and sliding an arm around his bare shoulders. "But I _know_ you, Seeley, and I _know_—without a doubt—that you'd never hurt me."

He leaned against her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. "But _how_ do you know?"

His change in position exposed part of his abdomen to her, and even in the dark she could see the scars from the burns he had sustained when her refrigerator exploded. "Because," she answered, fingering the scars delicately, "you saved my life. Because, whether you know it or not, you're a good man…even when you were a sniper. You saved lives, then, too."

"By _taking_ lives," he replied bitterly.

Brennan frowned and asked a question she regretted as soon as the words passed her lips. "Then why did you even join the army?"

To her surprise, he wasn't offended. "I wanted to serve my country," he told her. "I wanted to make a difference in the world, to make it a safe place for people who couldn't fight for themselves."

Her arm slid around his back in a warm embrace. "You did that. You did it for a lot of people you never met, and you did it for me, too. In fact, you're still doing it now with the FBI."

"I just…God, Temperance! I was so scared! I felt like an animal in that dream, stalking my kill…and then it turned out to be _you_…" He buried his face in her shoulder. "That's not really me, is it?"

"No," she insisted, lightly stroking his skin. "Would I be sitting her with you right now if I thought you were like that?"

He shook his head slightly against her shoulder in response.

"That's right," she affirmed, drawing him closer. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she smiled gently. "And I'm right here."

"You're not leaving?"

It was a simple question, but it struck her on so many different levels. She didn't hesitate, however, with her answer. "No. I'm not leaving," she told him softly. "I'll stay right here with you for as long as you need me."

He relaxed a bit in her arms, the corners of his mouth pulling back into the beginnings of a relieved and thankful smile. "You always do."

They sat together for hours, Brennan with her arms comfortingly around Booth, holding him close until he began to drift off to sleep. Slowly, then, she lay down, pulling him with her as she adjusted her position in hopes of getting some sleep herself. He snuggled up against her, drawing warmth and security from her as he faded out, feeling like things were _right_ this way.

"I know you don't believe in God," he mumbled drowsily, his breath tickling her ear, "but I thank Him every day for bringing us together, Temperance…even when we're _not_ together."

She knew how religious he was, and understood the significance of his statement. Smiling in the darkness, she brushed a hand through his hair and whispered, "Tell Him thank you from me, too."


	19. Then The Morning Comes

A/N: More, more, more you say! And I blush modestly and say, of course I'll give you more :-P Especially with such kind reviews, and in such large numbers! I know I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again--I really don't know how to thank you for all the support...except to keep on writing :-)

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The sunlight was just beginning to peek through the windows when Brennan floated back to consciousness. She knew she'd have to get up soon to get ready for work, but she felt so warm and comfortable and safe snuggled under the covers that she wasn't ready to rise just yet.

Then she discovered the strong arm draped around her and blinked her eyes slowly open. _This isn't my bed…or my home…_ She wracked her sleepy brain for memories of the previous night and it all came flooding back. The phone call. Booth's nightmare. Going to his place. _He fell asleep_, she remembered, _and I didn't want to leave him._

She rolled over carefully, a soft smile forming on her lips as her eyes came to rest on her still-sleeping partner. He looked peaceful, relaxed, in sharp contrast to the state he had been in when she had arrived only a handful of hours ago. Her gaze shifted to the alarm clock on the nightstand and, reading the time display, she knew that she'd have to leave soon. _But not yet. After last night, I don't want him to wake up alone._ She leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead, cuddling back up to him and listening to his steady breathing as she waited for him stir.

Half an hour later, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled. "I think I'm still dreaming," he mumbled. "But I don't want to wake up this time if I am."

She giggled in spite of herself. _He's barely conscious and he's flirting with me? _"You're not dreaming."

"Good," he said, tightening his arm around her.

She pulled back a little and studied his face. "You're okay?" she asked, the concern showing in her voice. "You're really…you're okay?"

He nodded, resting his forehead against hers. "Thanks to you."

She smiled a small smile in response, but didn't speak. Her brain was arguing with her heart over the best course of action.

_Get up! _her brain commanded. _Go to work!_

_No! _her heart shot back. _Stay here with him!_

In the end, it was her heart that won out, but not in the way it had hoped. She sighed softly and sat up, pushing the covers back and swinging her feet over the side. _He's alright now,_ she assured herself, _and it was his idea to be strictly professional partners. I decided to abide by his wishes…_

"Wait," he called, reaching for her from under the blankets. His hand made contact with her shoulder, slipping over the smooth skin as she continued to move away. "Stay for a little while longer…"

She shook her head, adjusting her tank top and standing. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Temp—"

She cut him off gently before he got the rest of her name out. "No. We both need to get to work."

He heard the sadness in her voice, the longing to stay with him, and knew that he was responsible for putting it there. _And the reason she _isn't_ staying. You're lucky she came at all._

He watched her make her way out of the bedroom, her wrinkled pajama pants swishing as she moved, her hand unconsciously tucking her hair behind her ears. "At least let me take you to dinner," he tried, a last ditch effort to hold onto her figuratively if not literally. "Tonight, after we knock off for the day. Call it a thank-you for last night."

She turned slowly in the doorway, keeping her face neutral as she turned the offer over in her mind. "Okay," she nodded. "Dinner would be nice."

She spun around quickly, then, and disappeared. Only a few moments later he heard his front door close and he flopped backward onto the bed, heaving a heavy sigh. The place seemed suddenly very empty without her there and the heartache he had managed to tame—though not dispel—during their semi-separation roared back with a vengeance.

_I miss her_, he thought. _Even when she's standing right next to me at the lab or in my office or at a crime scene, I miss her…I miss the way we used to be together._

He sighed again and grabbed a pillow, clutching it to his chest in a futile effort to transfer some of the pain to it from himself. Instead, the ache grew stronger, aided by her scent still left on the material. _This is just torture…worse than any other torture I've experienced…_

Booth catapulted the pillow angrily across the room and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his arms. _I can't do this anymore_, he realized. _I can't do this pretend-there's-nothing-between-us act and survive…and neither can she._ _It has to be all or nothing._

He sighed again, this time with a resigned air.

_And I know what I have to do._



Swinging open her door, Brennan headed immediately for her bedroom to begin her morning routine in preparation for work. She made it as far as the living room, though, before she halted in her tracks, struck by the emptiness of the place.

_There's not another living thing here,_ she discovered. _Not a hamster or goldfish…not even a plant because the last one I had died when I forgot to water it._

She dropped her keys on the coffee table and sighed. "And not another person, either," she said aloud. "I'm all alone here…and I _used_ to be okay with that."

Circling the coffee table, she lowered herself onto the couch and rested her head in her hands, balancing her elbows on her knees. "I never wanted anything more than what I have until I met him," she frowned. "I never wanted what other people always seem to talk about, the house and the minivan and the husband and kids, the compromises and the freedoms lost…"

_But being with Booth wouldn't _be_ losing my freedom…_

He supported her, he looked out for her, even when they weren't speaking. He…he _danced_ for her. She laughed out loud as the image of Booth doing the _Walk Like an Egyptian_ dance at the American History Museum, the humor of the moment mixing with the underlying sweetness of his actions. Because it _was_ sweet, she knew. He didn't want to do the dance, but he had complied with her request simply because she had asked.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it, but remained where she was for several minutes more, trying to think things through, to form a plan, to reason out the problem the way she always did.

Finally, she rose from the couch and began pacing around the living room, restless and unhappy. "All I know is that we can't continue our relationship the way it is," she decided. "If we do, we'll end up resenting each other and become enemies, and I _won't_ let that happen. That means we either have to break off all ties, which would be extremely painful for an indeterminate amount of time, or we have to try to make a romantic relationship work, which could cause even more pain if we aren't successful."

She stopped pacing in front of her stereo, her new Sam & Dave CD with the words _Hold On, I'm Comin'_ almost screaming up at her from the case, reminding her of what they had…what they still could have. And suddenly she knew the answer.

"I've never given up _anything_ without a fight."


	20. About Last Night

A/N: Still hanging in there with me? Lol! You are and I love you all for it! I am, however, going to continue to tease you a bit. And I fear I wasn't quite clear enough in the last section on our Secret Agent Man's intentions. Some of you got the wrong idea about what he was planning, and might be surprised at this chapter. I promise, though, that there _is_ a resolution in the near future...but that's all I'm saying ;-P

---------

Booth pulled into the parking structure at the Jeffersonian and killed the engine of his SUV. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, straightened his tie, and grabbed an envelope and palm-sized box from the passenger seat. He climbed from the vehicle and slid the items into his overcoat pocket, running through his repertoire of breathing exercises to steady his nerves as he headed into the lab.

In her office, Brennan stood in front of the little mirror she had pulled from her desk drawer and placed on an eye-level shelf, fumbling with the clasp of her necklace. After three tries she finally secured the chain around her neck, then adjusted the dress she had changed into for her dinner with Booth. She closed her eyes for a moment, preparing herself mentally the way she used to do to get ready for a big exam in college.

He strolled down the hallway and rounded the corner, pausing in the office doorway to take in the sight of her with hungry eyes. She was wearing that strappy maroon dress, the one that he had once told her was his favorite. Her hair was down, pooling around her shoulders, the red in it glinting in the lamplight. His heart nearly stopped when she smiled at her reflection, and he inhaled sharply to get it beating again.

She turned quickly at the sound, blushing pink when she discovered him watching her. "How long have you been there?"

He smiled. "Not long," was all he answered.

_No biting comeback_, she observed. _He's very mellow this evening. And he looks quite handsome in that suit._

He stepped into the office. "Ready?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Just let me get my coat."

He resisted the urge to help her with her coat, but didn't quite succeed in suppressing the instinct to guide her out to the car. _I thought I kicked that habit! I can't be doing things like that,_ he chastised himself.

They made uncomfortable small talk in the car for a while before Brennan figured out where they were headed. "Your place?" she wondered aloud.

He nodded. _I didn't want to do this in public_. "I said I'd take you to dinner…I didn't say where."

"Very clever," she smiled. _He's wearing the tie I gave him…did he do that on purpose?_

He again ushered her from the SUV when they arrived, his hand brushing the small of her back before pulling quickly away. Her skin tingled from the warmth of his touch and her eyes closed for the briefest instant, savoring the feeling.

"Have a seat," he offered, gesturing toward the living room as they entered his home and shrugged off their coat. "I'll get dinner started."

She moved toward the couch, but changed her mind halfway there. "You want some help?"

He flashed her a grin. "It's a lasagna my mother made for me the last time she was here for a visit. I took it out of the freezer before I left for work this morning—all I have to do is put it in the oven."

"Ah," she smiled.

She waited for him anyway, and the pair walked into the living room together, taking seats as far away from each other as politeness would allow. The uncomfortable small talk reappeared for a few moments, until Booth decided enough was enough.

"I'm…I'm sorry I called you last night," he said quietly, his eyes revealing his embarrassment. "I should have been stronger…"

She unconsciously inched toward him. "When you first told me about your nightmares, what did I say to you?"

He smiled softly, remembering the moment on the couch in her office. "You told me that it wasn't weak to seek comfort, that it took strength to face your fears."

"Yes," she nodded. "And I also told you to call me if you ever had a nightmare like that again. You merely did the sensible thing and asked for help when you needed it."

He chuckled. "Leave it to you, Bones, to put a pragmatic spin on an emotional subject."

She studied his face at that remark. _Was that a verbal shot at me because of the way I told him I love him?_ He was leaning forward on his forearms, eyes focusing on a fingernail he was playing with so as to avoid looking at her, but there was no trace of sarcasm in his features. _I guess not. He's just teasing me a little…almost like he used to. And he called me Bones. Aside from last night, he hasn't done that in weeks._ "Pragmatism is not a bad thing. It's the way…"

"…you cope with things," he finished for her. "I know. We all can't be as pragmatic as you are, though, and I really am sorry for the state I was in last night. I was like a clingy little kid…"

She slid further down the couch, closer still to where he sat in the recliner. "You don't have to apologize," she told him. "I know what it's like to be that afraid, to need the help of someone else to deal with that fear." She wanted to reach out and touch him the way she had the previous night, to show him how good they were together. Instead, she shoved the thought away and smiled a small smile. "I'm just glad I was able to help."

"You did," he replied quietly. "You stayed with me and comforted me and made me feel better…without making false promises or empty reassurances. Never once did you say 'it'll be okay' or 'everything's all right now'. You talked some sense into me. And you told me over and over that you were there, that you weren't leaving."

"Well, you said you needed me," she explained, confused by importance he placed on those particular actions. "And it was the truth—I wasn't going to leave you."

"But most people don't tell you the truth when you're upset like that. They just shush you and say things that are supposed to calm you down. I do it with Parker all the time, and with a four-year-old it works. But it never worked with me after one of those dreams."

"And my staying with you did work." It was more of a question than a statement, but she already knew the answer.

"Yeah, your reason and rationality actually helped me keep it together, because I know how meticulous you are about facts." He flashed her a wry smile. It faded quickly, though, as he continued speaking more quietly. "Having you there made all the difference."

He let that hang in the air for a long moment, hoping his gratitude came though as strongly as he felt it.

Then Brennan broke the silence, uncomfortable with the unspoken sentiment. "Booth, there's something else we need to talk about."

He winced, knowing what was coming and not wanting to spoil the first nice moment they'd had in weeks. "Now?"

"Yes. Now."

"Okay…"

She took a deep breath and dove right in. "I think we should be together."

He stared at his hands, avoiding her eyes again. "You don't waste any time, do you?" he half-mumbled.

"No," she shook her head. "Not when it comes to something as important as this…as _us._" She bowed her head and clasped her hands together in her lap. "I know I'm not usually very good with people or emotions, and I know that when I told you I loved you I didn't do it in the best way." She raised her eyes to his, the sincerity evident in her voice. "But I meant it. And after last night I can't just ignore it anymore. For the first time in my life I'm in love, and it's with you. That's…that's…a really big deal."

He met her gaze and smiled softly at the last phrase. "It _is_ a big deal," he agreed. Then the smile became sad and died away. "And that's why we _can't_ be together…even after last night—_especially _after last night—I know I'd hurt you somehow, and I _won't_ do that to you…" He rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen where he'd left his overcoat, withdrawing the box and envelope from the pocket. Returning to the room, he set the former on an end table and handed the latter to Brennan. "That's why I wrote this today."

She extracted a sheet of paper from the envelope and began to read. "This is a request for reassignment."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."


	21. Somebody to Love

A/N: I was going to torture you all one more day and post this tomorrow so I could proof it a few more times, but my beloved Detroit Tigers won their playoff game tonight and I'm so excited I can barely see straight (that's what happens when something so bad finally becomes good!). So to celebrate, I thought I'd share the weath and answer a long-awaited question. Ready?

Go!

----------

Her eyes met his, searching his face for some hint that this wasn't real. "You don't want to be my partner?"

"We can't do this colleagues-only thing anymore," he told her, the distress creeping into his voice. "And I can't take another night like last night where I have to let you go in the morning and pretend nothing ever happened. There can't be any in between with us…it's got to be all or nothing, and the option that will cause the least amount of pain is to have nothing—no socializing, no friendship, and no more working together."

She stood, the emotion flashing in her blue eyes. "I agree with your conclusion," she told him, "but not at all with your implementation of it. We _can_ be together. We can make this work, Seeley, I know we can."

"How do you know?" he asked very seriously, his voice rising. "What reasons do you have? Where are your facts? Because I know you, Temperance, and I know you've thought this through from every angle and rationalized the hell out of it."

Her face fell. "I did think it through," she said quietly. "And I came up with a multitude of facts and rationalizations and reasons why we would form a well structured, interdependent pair bond. But the only thing that matters," she stepped closer to him, wanting again to touch him, but unsure if she should, "is that I love you…that I _need_ you. And that I _know_ you feel the same way about me."

"I do," he almost whispered. "But if I did something to hurt you in any way, I'd never forgive myself."

"Like in your nightmare last night. You don't trust yourself."

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No. I don't."

She took another step toward him and took his hands in hers. "Then trust _me_. You know how…how _wonderful_ it was to be friends…especially as close as we were."

"After Parker, your friendship was the best thing that ever happened to me," he admitted softly.

She released one of his hands and brought hers to his face, skimming his jaw lovingly with just the tips of her fingers. "Then think of how much _more_ wonderful it would be if we added a romantic relationship to that."

His free hand found her hip and grasped it gently, while his heart increased in tempo from a simple cha-cha to a rousing swing dance. "No," he repeated with much less conviction than he had intended.

"Yes," she countered, sliding her fingers through his hair. "It might not be easy, but you know what it's like to fight for something that's right. You've spent your entire adult life doing it." She drew him closer, feeling his arms slipping around her waist as hers came to rest on his shoulders. "Fight with me now…for us…for what we can be together."

Booth's heart moved from the swing dancing beat to break-dancing mode with Brennan in such close proximity. _She seems so certain_, he thought, his resolve beginning to melt. _And I trust her more than I trust anyone else. That's why I called her last night._ He ran a hand over her back, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. "You know, on all the TV shows, and in all the movies, and in all the songs, they always talk about love making you weak. But with you…" his smile grew despite his efforts to keep a neutral expression. "With you I feel _stronger._ And when you say you think that we can make a relationship work…I almost believe you."

She studied his face carefully. "But you're still not sure."

"I'm just so afraid of hurting you…"

She cut him off, losing patience with him. "I am an intelligent adult woman, Booth, and as such am perfectly capable of making informed, rational decisions about my own life! If I want to be in a relationship with you, it's because I've already weighed all of the possible consequences and the probabilities for each…"

"Okay, okay!" he replied, his smile blossoming into laughter. "I know how good your reasoning skills are." The laughter faded quickly and he exhaled a small sigh. "You're really sure about this?"

"Yes," she said firmly.

He studied her face closely, looking for any sign of hesitation. "And you're not afraid?"

Her fingers combed through his hair again. "The only thing I'm afraid of, Seeley, is that you're going to turn in that request for reassignment and walk right out of my life, and we'll never know how happy we could be together because we didn't even try."

The soft smile reappeared on his lips. "My name sounds so good when you say it," he whispered. A faint pink crept up into her cheeks and he caressed one tenderly. "And you're right—if we walk away now, we'll never know what could have been."

"But neither of us has walked away yet," she responded hopefully, grasping his tie with one hand and twirling it slowly around.

"Not yet."

"Are you going to?" she asked, this time with trepidation in her voice.

He leaned his forehead against hers and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting with himself over what to do. His brain insisted that the best course of action was still to leave her before he did something he couldn't take back. But his heart wouldn't give in. He flashed back to his last moments of consciousness the previous night and the first of the morning, feeling all over again what it was like to fall asleep in Brennan's arms and wake up with her in his. His break-dancing heart beat even faster, nearly stopping from the jolt of sheer happiness. _Can I really walk away from that?_

Booth knew the answer to his question, had really known it all along. He drew her closer still and leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he echoed the words she had spoken to him before he fell asleep. "I'll stay right here with you for as long as you need me."

Joy greater than she ever expected washed over her and she found it impossible to keep from grinning, even as his mouth found hers in warm, sweet kiss. She could feel him, too, straining to keep the smile off his face and finally broke away laughing.

"You can't kiss me very well if you're going to keep smiling like that," she teased, finding his lips again.

He drew back, feigning indignation. "You'd rather I was frowning?"

She swatted his arm and reached for him, almost unable to believe this was really happening. "I'd rather you leaned over and kissed me properly," she shot back, the twinkle in her eyes matching that of any star in the sky.

"We've been together for less than a minute and already you're bossing me around," he laughed, dropping down on the couch and pulling her onto his lap. His hands threaded through her hair and skimmed down her back before slipping around her again in a secure embrace. "But since it was such a good idea, I'll let it slide this time."

Seconds before his lips met hers once more the smoke alarm began wailing from the kitchen. "The lasagna!" Booth suddenly remembered. He dumped her from his lap rather unceremoniously and ran into the kitchen.

Brennan, sprawled out on the couch, chuckling mirthfully as she imaged—and smelled—her partner pulling the charred remains of dinner from the oven. "How bad is it?" she called.

She heard him sigh despondently. "I'm glad my mother isn't here to see this."

The emotional rollercoaster of the last few weeks, the conclusion of one saga and the exhilaration at the beginning of another, and the mental image of Booth mourning a smoking casserole dish proved to be too much for her to handle.

The pragmatic scientist threw back her head and dissolved into a bout of uncontrolled, very un-Brennan-like giggles.


	22. Signed, Sealed, Delivered

A/N: Another day to celebrate! Nothing big like my Tigers in the World Series (man I wish I still lived up there! I spent the first 25 years of my life watching them lose, and they finally get good _after_ I move away!), but grading 65 Personal Finance Tests during the faculty meeting today is also a worthy accomplishment ;-) So in honor of my normal work activities (lol), I have for you today...fluff! Pure, unadulterated fluff. _And_ the mysterious box Booth had in his pocket--but it isn't what you think :-D

----------

Brennan managed to keep her laughter quiet enough so that Booth didn't come rushing out of the kitchen wondering what had possessed her. After a few moments of gleeful giggling listening to him scrape the ruined lasagna from its pan, she managed to calm herself and decided to lend a hand.

"Let's just order take-out," she suggested, rising and making her way out of the living room. She spotted the small box that Booth had left on the end table earlier and picked it up, bringing it with her into the kitchen. "There's a great Thai place not far from here…"

He smiled broadly when she appeared around the corner, her hair slightly mangled from writhing on the couch. "Let me fix your hair first…" He slipped his arms around her and smoothed the amber strands, letting his large hands slide down her body and come to rest on her hips as he placed a tender kiss on her lips. "There."

She was practically glowing with happiness, completely forgetting the box in her hands.

Then he noticed it. "What's that?"

"Oh, this?" She shifted her focus back to the palm-sized gold box she was holding. "I don't know. You brought it in with your request for reassignment."

"Remind me to tear that up, by the way," he smiled, taking the box from her. He turned it over and examined it, trying to remember what was inside. _Everything that happened before seems so long ago. Did I really buy this only this morning?_ Then it clicked and he chuckled. "I meant this to be a going-away present," he told her. "Something to remember me by after I left town…if you still wanted to remember me."

"Well I definitely want to remember you," she smirked.

The chuckle turned into a thankful laugh. "Glad to here it. Go ahead and open it."

She took the box back and pried the lid off, revealing two rigid gold bracelets. "They're beautiful…" she breathed, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied lightly, delighting in the red tinge that reappeared in her face at the comment. "And they're bangles…"

Her brain registered the word immediately and her face lit up. "Like _The_ Bangles?"

"Yes," he laughed. "Like _The_ Bangles. I wanted you to remember something good about me, and I knew these would do that."

"'Walk like an Egyptian…'" she sang softly, her giggles returning.

"Yeah," he responded, beginning to blush himself at the memory of dancing at the American History Museum, "'Walk like an Egyptian'. And I did. There's an inscription, too," he added quickly to change the subject. "Ubi tu caius ibi ego caia," he recited proudly.

She grinned. "That's Latin."

"See? I can be smart with dead languages too. And…the jeweler helped me figure it out." He winked at her, his infamous charm smile making an appearance.

She grinned brightly and her eyes dropped back to the bracelets. "'Wherever you are I am'," she translated.

"Now you have a little piece of me to take with you everywhere you go."

Her smile softened and she slid a finger over the material of his tie, meeting his gaze again. "Just like you with the tie I gave you."

"Just like me with the tie you gave me," he repeated contentedly. "Neither one of us will ever have to be without the other."

"I like the sound of that." Her hands found his shoulders and she leaned up for a kiss, more serious this time than the last. "I love you, you know."

"I love you too," he whispered back, tingles forming all over his body. Then he smiled the smile she always called his I-told-you-so grin. "You once told me there was no such thing as magic between two people. Has this—us—changed your mind at all?"

She smiled back, the one he always called her not-so-fast smirk. "Nope," she decided. "What we have is already more real than any magic."

He kissed her again softly, sweetly, and drew back the tiniest fraction of an inch. "You know, Temperance, this time I think you're right."

Her grin widened. "I like the sound of that, too." She kissed him quickly one more time, brushing a hand over his face as she pulled away, her stomach growling loudly. "And, if I remember correctly, you promised me dinner tonight."

"I'll call the Thai place," he conceded. He kissed her hair and ordered her out of the kitchen, reaching for the phone and phone book.

Brennan wandered back out into the living room, sliding her bracelets onto her wrist as she slowly walked around, studying every piece of furniture, every decoration, every photograph with new eyes. When she discovered the stereo, she began flipping through Booth's collection of CDs, wondering who some of the artists were and silently rendering her opinion of those she recognized. Then she found a CD she had become very familiar with.

"Sam and Dave," she smiled, flipping the case over. "There it is…_Hold On, I'm Comin'_."

Strong arms snaked around her waist and a warm body pressed up against her back. "That's what you said yesterday."

He kissed her neck and a soft sigh escaped her lips. She leaned back against him and smiled. "Said what?" she asked, almost dreamily.

"When I called you and asked you to come over. You said, and I quote, 'hold on, I'm coming'."

"I did, didn't I?" She rolled her head against his shoulder, her eyebrows knit in confusion. "How did you remember that?"

"Because," he began slowly, embarrassment creeping back into his voice, "while I was waiting for you to get here, I sang that song to myself over and over again. I thought of dancing with you in your office, how good it felt to hold you like that…and it kept me from going all to pieces. That's sort of our song, you know."

She turned all the way around in his arms, her hands clasping together behind his neck, the puzzlement deepening on her face. "No, I don't know. Our song?"

"Yeah, Bones, our song. Most couples have a song that means something special to them…maybe it reminds them of a happy memory or was playing during an important moment in their relationship. It's something that only they share together."

"And _Hold On, I'm Comin'_ is our song?"

He chuckled. "I think it's been our song for a while now." With one hand he reached over to the stereo and pushed the power button, selecting the CD he wanted from those already loaded in the tray.

_Don't you ever feel sad  
Lean on me when times are bad  
When the day comes and you're down  
In a river of trouble and about to drown_

_Just hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'_

_I'm on my way, your lover  
If you get cold, yeah, I will be your cover  
Don't have to worry, 'cause I'm here  
Don't need to suffer baby, 'cause I'm near_

_Just hold on, I'm comin'  
Hold on, I'm comin'_

"This is us, Temperance," he smiled, pulling her toward the center of the room. They began to sway gently, much more slowly than the tempo of the music, gazing into each other's eyes and ignoring the fact that they were following the clichés set forth by every love-struck couple before them.

He kissed her softly, the blissful smile on his lips mirrored on hers. "This is you and me."


	23. You and Me

A/N: Okay, you knew it had to end sometime, and unfortunately that time has come. This is where the story ends for our favorite pair, and for me. I think I may have finally got them out of my system, too, so I won't be...yeah right. Who'm I kidding? I have _Bones_ on the brain now, and already have some ideas for a possible sequal in a few weeks when I'm done coaching for the year.

One more thing before we get to the fluff--because that's the best and only way to end a story like this, with fluff. I have to thank all of you...every single person who read my wonky little story here, even those who didn't like it and told me as such. The reviews were always polite no matter the opinion being expressed, often very (very!) positive, and quite specific (which, as you all know, is an incredible help to any author). Thank you all so much for sticking with me for 23 chapters, for wading through the angst, for making me feel all warm and fuzzy and devious and evil and giggly and bouncy. Bren and Booth may be the inspiration for _what_ I write, but you all are my inspiration _to_ write...which is just a fancy way of saying that I live for reviews :-P Anyway, you _Bones_ folks are quite a group, and I have thoroughly enjoyed my time spent here so far. To say "I'll be back" with a bad Schwartzenegger accent would be cliche, so I won't do that. But I will be back, to both read and write. I don't think I could stay away if I wanted to!

And now...on with the show :-D

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"Hey Bones, we got a case," Booth called, trotting through the lab toward Brennan's office. He passed a delivery man on the way and swiveled his head around to inspect the man's uniform, wondering who was delivering what to where.

He had an answer in short order. "Who sent you flowers?"

Brennan turned quickly, pulling her nose out of the fragrant bouquet with a start. "Booth! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"

He stepped closer and repeated his question, his lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Who sent you the flowers, Bones?"

Her eyes flashed back. "That's none of your business."

"Now see there? You're wrong. You're my partner, so your business _is_ my business," he continued, his voice dripping with pseudo-rationality.

Brennan laughed condescendingly. "I hardly think so. But for your information, he happens to be a kind, caring, sensitive man…"

"Booorrrring," Booth interrupted.

"He is _not_ boring, Booth," she argued. "But like I said, it's none of your business."

"He must be important," he persisted. "Those are red roses…"

She turned away, ignoring him to look for a vase, and was startled again, this time by Angela's exasperated voice calling from the hallway.

"For God's sake, Bren! Just tell him about how you've been mooning over this guy for the past two weeks…tell him how your new flame is handsome and strong and the best kisser you've ever had…tell him how sweet and thoughtful this guy is and how ga-ga you are over him…and then get the hell out of here so I don't have to listen to him _whine_ anymore!"

Booth shot a look at Brennan, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "The best kisser you ever had? You're _ga-ga_ over him?"

Before she could respond, Angela's voice cut in again, the irritation building. "And don't you even start, Seeley Booth! Don't think I haven't noticed you all goo-goo eyed over some _woman_, too. You're just as bad as Bren! Walking around with your head in the clouds…" She shook her head and growled through clenched teeth. "I just _know_ you totally worship her!"

The frustrated forensic artist stormed off indignantly, leaving the pair momentarily alone.

"Worship her?" Brennan asked, her own smirk forming on her lips. "Isn't that some kind of sacrilege Booth?"

The expression on his face softened and he shook his head slowly. "Not with this woman."

Her eyes lit up and she couldn't keep her smile from growing. Leaning closer and lowering her voice, Brennan whispered, "The flowers are beautiful, Seeley. I love them."

It took every fiber of his being to keep still, but he managed to control everything except his pounding heart as he replied gently, "Not as much as I love you, Temperance."


End file.
